The Aftermath of Forever
by NoPondInTheForest
Summary: Rose vowed she'd stay, always. But then the Doctor went and split into two, and she could not keep her promise to both of him. It seemed a cruel twist, yet an even crueler one had come. Time revealed that another forever wasn't impossible. And worse yet- it had been destined to happen all along. (Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler) **Sequel to "The Consequences of Dreaming"**
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Well, here we go again! First off, I need to give a **spoilers** warning to those of you who have not read the previous story in this series, "The Consequences of Dreaming". This first chapter does give away the ending of that story. That said, if you'd like to go ahead and read this anyway, you should be able to figure out what going on.

Also, I must apologize for the (very) angsty note this starts on, but things will only get better from here.

* * *

**The Aftermath of Forever**

**Chapter 1**

If he had bothered to ask her how long she'd been waiting, Rose simply would have shrugged. Little over half an hour. Long enough to pace the floor a few times, to press her nose to the windows. Long enough to shred every tissue in her pocket.

But the real answer, the honest one, the one that mattered because she felt every second of it as an ache in her bones, was _too long_.

Months upon endless months she'd spent, missing the weight of his gaze on her. Hungering to simply share a smile with him. To have just a scarce few of the words from his lips be meant for her and her alone.

He didn't ask how long, in fact at the start of it all he'd hardly asked her anything. He was too surprised, too joyful at finding her there two whole days earlier than he expected (_you weren't supposed to be home until Saturday, Rose_) that she'd barely used any of her well-rehearsed lies before he'd pounced on her, his mouth coming down firmly over her own.

And although it was fantastic, oh yes, being joined with him and whole again, had Rose even the slightest idea of what it would lead to, she never would have allowed him anywhere near her.

* * *

Her hand shook, and it took three tries before she fit the key into the lock. At least it gave way easily, and Rose stumbled into the console room, chest heaving, her legs jelly. As she slid down against the door she felt it shift, latching tight under her weight. With a shudder she turned her face into it. Its scent, its texture, was warm and familiar and comforting, like the shoulder of a beloved friend. She breathed it in, while in her veins the last of the flight hormones burned away, leaving only the leaden weight of despair.

She had finally done it. She'd gone too far. Re-entering her own personal timeline was dangerous, beyond risky, all along she had known it and still she pressed on. Was losing him not bad enough? Oh no, she had to go idiotically mucking about, and now-

-she had just jeopardized their precious _history_.

_She_.

She, Rose Tyler, had done this.

Not Bad Wolf.

Bad Wolf, her eternal excuse. Rose had never really come to terms with what she'd done in that stint of omnipotence. Yes, she'd saved people, saved the Doctor and Jack, but in every other way, her actions had been nothing short of self-serving. Her first creation? A way back to the Doctor. Then, a second version of him, a miracle in the form of a human/Time Lord hybrid who was able to stay with her in this universe, so she could be near her family.

Not a thought had the goddess spared for the other Time Lord, who would go on alone, who too had loved her, to whom she'd also promised her forever.

It was bad enough, back when she thought that was the all of it.

The full, awful truth had lain for years in patient wait: Bad Wolf had never meant to settle for only one Doctor. From the very beginning, all cogs had been set in motion, linking time and choreographing events till Rose's first dance was over. And then she would move heedlessly on, a second partner willing to take her hand.

"I create myself," indeed.

More like "I create _for_ myself."

Rose meant to spend the rest of her days living in defiance of it all.

But-

Today's shock had brought clarity, and clarity was painfully blunt.

However unknowingly, Rose Tyler, human, had just done battle with the goddess for the title of most egocentric...

...and _won_.

Oh, god. She needed to be gone from here.

She got to her feet and hoisted herself up the ramp, her clammy palms sticking to the metal railing. She made it to the console and circled it, inputting the dematerialization sequence by rote until she vaguely registered the ship's shuddering entrance to the Vortex.

It was a small relief. She could still feel him; her lips still burning with the longed for press of his mouth on hers. His scent clung to her so heavily that Rose felt she must either scrub it away now or drown in it. The latter... it was a tempting idea. To simply drag herself off to the bed they'd shared, curl up in his pillows and essence, and tell herself lies.

But it wouldn't work. Even now, as she breathed him in, all she could see was him wrenching away from her, his beloved features crossed with fear, horror and realization thick in his voice.

_"You're... you're alone. No, no no no, please, you can't... I thought... why, love? Why?"_

Tears sprang into her eyes and Rose hastily shed her jacket, balling it up outside-in. She chucked it into the farthest corner and dashed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later and steaming water poured obligingly from the tap, filling the tub and turning the air in the small room warm, thick and heavy. Rose stripped, tossing her clothes back into the bedroom through the partially open doorway. After toeing the door shut, she reached for the shelf at the foot of the tub, grabbed the nearest glass jar and dumped a good portion of its contents into the swirling water. Then she watched the pink, crystallized salts melt away until there was nothing left but their sickly, sweet scent.

She climbed in, slowly sinking into the liquid heat. As the last lingering evidence of him washed away, loss and grief suddenly overwhelmed her, and she broke down, sobbing. She sobbed with the pain of wanting him, sobbed because all those years... he'd _known_. Known that she would go on without him, aimless and restless and heartbroken, even after he'd begged her not to. He'd known that she would break her promise.

Leave it to her. The Doctor was dead, and she was still hurting him.

Crying felt good, in a way. It spent her pent-up tension in a way that all the running in the world hadn't, and Rose didn't even try to control the tears until they'd dwindled down to not much more than a pounding headache and shuddering, shaky breaths. Soothed by the hot water, she slid low, ducking her head under, counting the seconds and holding her breath for as long as she could possibly manage. Slowly she exhaled, tiny bubbles of air, and the horrible knot in her belly began to unfurl a bit.

How had it _possibly_ come to this? All she'd wanted was to see him every once in a while, whenever the loneliness became too much to bear. She'd told herself it was helping her cope. Helping her move on.

It was so obvious, now, how desperate she'd gotten. How every sighting of him had left her far from satisfied, but rather half-mad, hungry for more. She wanted a final goodbye, even if he never knew it for what it was. That's what would enable her to finally cut herself off and give him up for good.

Rising up from the water, Rose drew a long breath and lay back against the side of the tub, running a dripping finger along its cool, smooth edge. In the end she'd had him fooled for maybe all of a minute. Perhaps she'd have carried it off a tiny bit longer if he hadn't touched her, but since he was the Doctor and she was Rose there was no chance of him keeping his hands to himself.

The kiss itself was everything she had longed for, ached for, the very definition of rapture- until the smoldering remains of the mental bond she'd once had with him was suddenly hit with new life, as with a rush of pure oxygen. Pleasure twisted into panic as the link flared up, white and hot, burning and clawing for its lost mate, completely beyond Rose's control and shocking the breath from them both. His dark, stricken eyes told her he'd gotten far more than a glimpse at how their story would ultimately end.

She yanked the plug, a nascent plan forming while the water drained away.

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe... maybe she could go back again, prevent herself from going through with it...

A memory floated up out of nowhere, slamming into the back of her skull.

* * *

_"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked, poking her head into his office. Surprised, the Doctor looked up from where he was hunched over the tank containing the TARDIS coral, not only bespectacled but very bright-eyed for such a late hour._

_"I'm taking energy readings."_

_"In the middle of the night?"_

_"I've been missing something, Rose. It's the only explanation for why she won't grow. Once I figure it out we are going to have this TARDIS. I'm absolutely convinced of it."_

_Her lips tightened. "Not this again."_

_He turned away, running a finger over the branch of porous coral. "I stopped in at Lola's this afternoon," he remarked, after a few beats. "For a coffee. All day I've been wondering if you, by chance, found the time in the middle of your assignment to go and sit at one of those little tables directly across the street from there?"_

_Rose breathed, in and out, and waited until he met her eyes. "I was in Aberdeen all day. With Jake."_

_"I know."_

* * *

It was just one incident of many- he'd mention things from time to time, always with hesitant words and wary eyes. Rose had eventually put an end to such speculations, being so convinced that he was wrong. There was no way he could possibly be spotting a future her. Not without a future _him_ at her side.

But he'd been right all along. And there was no fixing this. Today, all the other times, everything, it had already been woven inextricably into their lives. And all she could do about it was...

Damage control.

It had to stop. She would have to get away from Earth, with all of its memories and all of its temptation. Maybe forever.

Damp and towel-clad, heartsick, but full of resolve, Rose stepped from the ensuite back into the bedroom. In an instant she froze, toes curling into the carpet's soft pile, and saw the space as if it were something brand-new. Neatness had never been her strong suit and dirty clothes were strewn about everywhere, her dresser-top cluttered, the high-postered bed left rumpled and unmade. Yet through it all his presence lingered. His pillows. His books, still piled on the nightstand, topped with black-rimmed spectacles. Countless pairs of filthy old Converse, left in a heap on the floor of the closet.

Beads of water dripped from her hair to trickle wetly down her back. She'd never been able to bear the thought of moving out of this room. She couldn't. Yet, the fact that she needed to move on had never been clearer. But how could she let him go, form a new life on her own, being so surrounded by him everyday?

The problem didn't reside solely in their bedroom, either. The Doctor was everywhere, evidence of him and the life they'd shared haunting the ship like a ghost. Yes, she was still traveling, still helping people wherever she could, but truth was...she'd lost herself. He was never out of her mind.

And as long as she remained in this universe, where she had the power to see him again ever present right underneath her fingertips...

She could never make herself let him go.

Eyes slipping shut, Rose stood for long minutes shivering, in damp terrycloth and sodden hair, until she had forced herself to accept this as truth.

The Doctor, as Donna had insightfully pointed out, should never travel alone. It was too dangerous. He needed someone to stop him. Rose had always thought of this as a Time Lord thing, or something inherently him. Now she knew better. Loneliness and power were a lethal mix. She was a fool to think she wouldn't be susceptible.

And she was a bigger fool if she didn't take drastic measures to end this- today. Now. Before she had a chance to change her mind. And then he would be protected from her, their precious history safe and sound, with no further mars upon it.

Her chilled flesh had become absolute numbness that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Dimly Rose was grateful for it; numbness was good, numbness she could handle, like a relieving anesthetic before an amputation. Dropping her towel, Rose dressed herself with fumbling hands. She reentered the bathroom, and went through the motions of drying her hair.

The metal grating clanged under her feet as Rose, clad in dark green trench coat and jeans, wound her way back into the console room. Pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, she leaned against the main column, leaving the navigational controls untouched.

"You've hated this, haven't you, girl?" she said, basking in the comforting warmth and light of the time rotor. "Fought me every step of the way, yeah, just like you should have. But...you took me to save him once. So maybe I did at least one thing right?"

Picking her way slowly around the console, Rose ran her fingertips over every lever and circuit and knob as if she'd never seen them before. Indeed, some of them _were _mysteries, a toggle-knob here, a flip-switch there, bits and bobs she had never seen even the Doctor use. This was true of the small, unobtrusive button set under the curve, which her fingers found easily. She pressed it, releasing a drawer of sorts. A small smile tugged at her lips as it came back to her, keenly, the first fight of many that it had engendered.

_"...and this bit here is the psycho-telemeter, a sort of, ah, homing device. Have a thing from somewhere else? Pop it right in, and wham! this brilliant little circuit deduces where it came from and then takes you straight to the planet of origin. Or even...well." He gave a little shrug. "Universe of origin. Not that I've ever tried it, myself." The Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing her carefully. "Heard it works pretty well, though."_

_Rose stared him down, stone-faced and unblinking. "And I need to know this...why?"_

_He didn't flinch. "Just in case."_

_"In case of what, Doctor? In case I, oh, I dunno, get tired of our life here and decide it might be fun to take up with another Time Lord? Which would be totally okay because, even though he has a different face and lives in an entirely different universe and I haven't seen him in years, technically he's still you. Even though you're my husband and he's never been. Even though I've never even kissed him properly. None of that matters, because to me, the two of you should be bloody interchangeable, is that it?"_

_His nostrils flared and he pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "That's not...that's not fair. Look, can you blame me for wanting to at least, I don't know, try and prepare for things? Prepare. It doesn't mean I want it to happen, or even that it will. Humans do these sorts of things. It's why they have...wills and, and, medical directives and life insurance." His voice softened. "Besides, he is me. And if...something happens, someday, there's no reason why you should have to stay and be alone here. Please. I...I need you to tell me you won't."_

He'd been so adamant about it. Afraid, even. So Rose, chalking it up to his typical over-protectiveness of her, and as always wanting to soothe him, had made the promise.

A good portion of her had also been hoping that the agreement on her part would keep him from ever bringing it up again, but he had. Repeatedly. And now she knew only too well the reason why.

But even if she kept her promise to cross the Void, how could she just swan back into the life of the other Doctor? She had already been the cause of so much pain for him. What right had she to return and risk reopening wounds that had probably healed over long ago?

The answer was that she had _no_ right. So she would cross, but only as a brand-new beginning for a brand-new Rose. Her days of searching for the Doctor were over.

The only person Rose sure as hell needed to find was _herself_.

Jaw set, Rose took the green-tipped sonic screwdriver from her pocket and deposited it, clattering, into the opened drawer. With the heel of her hand she pressed it shut, activating the circuit with a flash of light and a soft, electronic beep. Then, all at once she imagined the tool in the hand of its original owner- a man whose face was too young, and whose eyes were all too familiar. Eyes that had drawn her in just as much as they ever had.

The vivid image of him made Rose pause. What, exactly, would she do if their paths eventually crossed? How would she react if he...still wanted her? Would her love for him be the thing that made her capable of resisting?

Or made her incapable?

Her hand trembled on the final lever, and she hated herself for wavering. If she didn't go now she didn't know if she'd ever find the courage, but what if she was making the wrong decision?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I don't know what to do."

And then, a soft_ whoosh _as the handle suddenly shifted downward, right underneath her hovering palm. All Rose could do was clutch tight to the edge of the console, trying to keep her footing as the time rotor surged into motion.


	2. Chapter 2

There will be light at the end of this angsty tunnel! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Just as quickly as it started, everything stilled. As her fingers, one by one, gave up their death-grip on the edge of the console, Rose looked around warily. Had the ship just made the decision for her? Surely, boring straight through the howling would have made for a longer, or at least rockier, ride? Yet, at first glance at least, all systems were go. Not a thing out of place.

Licking her lips, Rose reached for the scanner and slid it over. Time to check her whereabouts. The screen was blank and she clicked a dial. No change. She twisted it again, and then a few more times, but to no avail. That was weird; the optical relay must have shut down. Even the current stats in circular Gallifreyan had disappeared.

For a few minutes longer she worked at it, until exasperation set in. Rolling her eyes, she lifted the spare sonic from its place in the console and approached the door, muttering all the while about stubborn, conniving time-ships. After a deep, fortifying breath, she wrenched the door open, like ripping off a plaster, and fully expected to see a zeppelin-less sky for the first time in longer than she cared to think about.

Instead, she found herself stepping out onto the broken, weedy pavement of a rather dodgy part of London- the _same_ London, with its trademark multitudes of floating airships and all. Squinting against the late afternoon sun, Rose shielded her eyes with a hand and looked down the street. For as far as she could make out, there was nothing here. Just warehouse after abandoned warehouse, each of them equally bleak and graffiti-covered.

It seemed as if her stomach figured it out first; it gave a painful, twisting swoop, and suddenly Rose knew exactly where she was.

It had been ages ago, but how could she _ever_ forget this place? It was only the scene of events that took place on a day she'd rank as one of the top five worst of her life. It came back, clear as anything, the choking panic she'd felt when she'd raced- yes, it was through that door right there, directly across the way- into the dingy grey building. Rose had dealt with planets at risk, and species, even entire universes, but she'd never felt so scared, so out of her depth, as she did on that day, on that critical mission to save the Doctor. And it was a mission she would have failed, if the powerful telepaths, who'd been for so long bent on destroying him, hadn't suddenly, inexplicably, shown him mercy.

Well, his survival that day wasn't _entirely_ inexplicable. The other Doctor, the two-hearted one, had been with him, and she had to admit that the role he'd played was crucial.

The breeze whipped up, tossing her hair. Rose brushed a loose lock out of her eyes. Was _that_ why the TARDIS had brought her back here? To try to stir up her long-buried feelings for her husband's living double? Rose huffed at the very idea, annoyed, and more than a bit hurt. She wasn't up for these sorts of little games. Especially not today, after everything. Honestly, how could the TARDIS not _know_ that, she was lucky Rose was even considering going back there at all-

A picture, striking and clear, popped into her mind, and her breath caught abruptly. It was the Doctor- not the new, floppy-haired Doctor she'd just been thinking of, but him, the human him, gorgeous as ever in all his tall, skinny glory.

Gorgeous and, going by the expression on his face...terrified?

He was _terrified_.

Rose flew back as if she'd been struck.

He...he was _here_.

She drifted forward unsteadily, lined her toes on the curb. Somehow, she knew she was right. He was here- as in right at this minute, just across the way, in that grotty old building.

Rose bit her lip hard, looking up at the line of broken windows, and tried not to cry as understanding sunk in. The TARDIS, the clever, lovely girl, _had_ brought her here for a reason. One last time. She would see him again, but not from a distance, nor under a pretense. She would neither save him nor hurt him. Joy welled in her heart despite everything, because now, in a way, she could make it better. Her final words with her husband would not be laced with deceit. His last knowledge of her would not be of her broken promises. Here was her chance to give her dear love something- comfort and reassurance, on a day when he needed it most.

Overcome, Rose breathed a silent thanks to her ship.

Stepping off the pavement, she jammed her hands in her pockets and came upon a sharp-edged, curled up paper. She removed it to look at, though she already knew what it was. It was the note he'd written to her, on this very day yet so long ago- the day he'd believed he would die. He hadn't, but for some reason she'd held on to the thing.

After she'd lost him for real, Rose had taken to carrying the little snip around with her. It was a bit of him, containing (as she imagined) a better goodbye than the one she'd gotten in reality. But she had never, would never, read it. Reading it would mean acceptance, and so far she hadn't gotten there.

Rose looked the little square, at her faded name, scribbled on it in his hand.

Nestling it back into her pocket, she entered the building, the rusted old door squeaking shut behind her.

No need for notes today. Her chance for farewell was here, just up these stairs.

And the time for denial was past.

* * *

_"I love you."_

_"I love you too. My Doctor." *_

Hard as it was, their final meeting gave Rose courage and strength. And at the end of it, she knew that she'd given him hope. She had seen it in his eyes. Her Doctor knew that she was going to be okay.

And she would be. Just... maybe not quite yet. Rose's return to the TARDIS was in an understandable flurry of tears, coming so fast and thick that as she ascended the ramp, she could hardly make out much more than the pulsing green of the Time Rotor, like a lighthouse in a storm. A beacon, drawing her in.

So she went to it. And this time, she pulled the final lever without the least hesitation.

* * *

_"I don't know, Doctor. It's a bit posh, don't you think? Do we really even need this much space?"_

_He considered her, brows raised as if he thought she was mad. "You do realize this will be the smallest place I've ever lived, yeah? Well," he went on, tugging an earlobe, "unless you count that guest room at your mother's." He shuddered. "Which I most definitely do not." Rose stood in the middle of the echoing, open room, and watched him as he wandered over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Although it offered a gorgeous view of the sparkling, night-time city below them, his head tipped back, his gaze went skyward. When he swung round to face her again moments later, his grin was face-splitting. "Come here; see how close we are to the stars!"_

_With a smile she went to him, and they looked up together, his arm slipping around her waist. And although he was right, from this particular vantage point the stars did indeed seem brighter than usual, Rose couldn't help a small sigh._

_He peered down at her, frowning. "What's wrong?"_

_"Oh, it's nothing. I love this, I really do, s'just... feels like you should be out traveling the stars, not just looking at 'em. That's your real home, out there. It's where you belong._

_One corner of his mouth turned up, and his eyes, still holding hers, went dark, soft and warm. "Oh, love," he said, in a low voice, "don't you get it by now? I am home. Home is whenever I'm with you."_

* * *

It was a lovely sentiment, and Rose had agreed with him instantly. And never had she felt the truth of it more, once she poked her head out the TARDIS' doors, her eyes falling upon a world that should also deserve the title, if any physical location ever did.

Home.

The actual trip had been tough on the TARDIS. Though the amount of smoke was minimal and the damage seemed minor, at the end of it she was powerless, quiet and dark. The ship had come to rest on a corner in a pretty, quintessentially British sort of neighborhood- long rows of attached brick houses, their front gardens the picture of early spring, patchy and yellowed. Mature trees, all budding branches. Little economy cars in all colours dotted the road, sitting here and there like so many toys.

It was a fresh mid-morning, and although the air was quite cool, the sun's rays were already warm and strong. Rose tipped her face up, catching a glimpse of the sky before she closed her eyes. Clear, blue, cloudless and empty. It was ever so familiar. Of course it was. She'd grown up under that sky.

Sinking back against the ship's doorframe, Rose waited for it, wished for it even, but it didn't come. Not even the slightest twinge of homecoming.

Who cared where she was? It was over. Her Doctor was gone.

Really, properly gone.

She'd think about it later.

Slipping inside, Rose shut the door tightly and locked it. She hauled herself off to the bedroom and slept like the dead.

* * *

Several restorative hours (and two cups of tea) later, nearly everything in the console room was back up and running, including the pilot. Rose, elbows deep in systematic re-checks, was in the middle of replacing a bit of singed wiring when the quiet was shattered by a sudden, loud, buzzy sort of chatter.

"Oi!" she exclaimed, starting, as the wire nut she'd been carefully twisting popped out of her fingers and fell, directly through a hole in the grating. With a growl of frustration, Rose crawled out from under the main column. As she got to her feet, she saw that the racket was coming from the view-screen, which had apparently decided to function again. It was partially angled away so she stretched for the handle, pulling it over to see what the fuss was all about.

"Quiet it down a bit, yeah?" she told the ceiling, and then stiffened when she got her first good look at the image on the screen.

It was a wide-angle view of the street outside, but Rose hardly recognized the sleepy little suburb. It was absolutely crawling with activity, and vaguely resembled a war-zone. Black-suited soldiers swarmed everywhere, their jeeps and trucks and black, unmarked vans parked part-way up lawns and in the middle of the street.

They weren't just any soldiers, either. She knew those red berets. UNIT. Rose had worked with the organization once, a long time ago, but mostly she'd heard about them from the Doctor. UNIT didn't raise the same worries within her as, say, this world's Torchwood might have, but still, the military group was specialized and highly secretive. As far as Rose knew, they came out only for threats that fell into categories like "paranormal" and "alien". So why were they here?

Rose scrolled through all available angles, changing the street view several times, but she couldn't find a single explanation for their presence. No strange events on the ground, no hostile fleets in the sky. Yet the soldiers' agitation was real- they moved quickly, some setting up mysterious equipment, others were ushering the last of the neighborhood's residents from their homes and off the street. A few that appeared to be senior officers stood about in small groups, talking, their gestures wide and animated. Orders were being barked into wireless communicators.

And an area quite near the TARDIS had begun to be cordoned off by a temporary wooden barrier. Rose, spine prickling, watched as a second, and then a third, barrier was pulled out of the back of a military van, and then set end to end, curved into a large semi-circle. Blocking off...

Rose zoomed in on it-

...nothing.

She stood up straight and stretched, rolling her shoulders to relieve the burning tension. This was making her a bit crazy. What was going _on_? Rose was fully aware that if nothing else fit the bill of "unusual and alien" around here, she certainly did. But- no, that was ridiculous. Why would they send half an army after her?

Well, not _her_, exactly. To them, the TARDIS on a street corner would only mean one thing.

The Doctor.

But the more she considered it as a possibility, the less sense it made. UNIT adored the Doctor. Their history with him was long and friendly; they knew he wasn't a threat. The only thing they'd go after the Doctor for would be help.

At that, an even better question floated into her mind. Why, exactly, _weren't_ they beating her door down? The TARDIS wasn't cloaked. And they obviously had some sort of problem. Didn't they want the expertise of the brilliant man in the box?

Okay, now a headache was coming on. Right in between her eyes. Rose rubbed at the spot, shoving the scanner off to the side. It was fine. She needed to settle down. For all she knew, somebody had a tiny little Klig in their bathtub or something, and this was just standard procedure.

For a bit she tried to get back to work, but kept finding herself parked in front of the screen, half nervous, half enthralled. It was hard not to be curious- she was Rose Tyler, after all. She lived for this sort of thing. And if the Doctor were with her, the two of them would have been out there over an hour ago, eager and interested, poking their noses into everybody's business.

Rose looked at the door again. Not that she wanted the soldiers to come knocking, but seriously, what was their deal? Nobody had given the time-ship more than a glance, no one was shouting "Code Nine" into their receivers. How could they _possibly_ not want the Time Lord's help?

An electrified jolt went through Rose. Perhaps...could it be because they already _had_ it?

Stricken, she flew around the console, heart pounding. She was out of here. And she was entirely uncaring of the attention the TARDIS' sudden dematerialization might draw. There was only one person who should not discover the time-ship here, on this particular corner.

A corner where he most definitely did not park it.

* * *

Lieutenant Davis' team was the team charged with setting up tables and equipment at a point just outside the barricade, so when the famous blue Police Box did its grinding disappearing act practically on top of them, they could hardly have missed it.

"Now that's somethin'," commented Peterson, seemingly unable to tear his eyes from what was now an empty street corner. None of the others moved either, but a couple of them managed a nod.

"Back to it!" yelled Lt. Davis, from the other side of a nearby van, and they all hopped to it.

"So what, we missed him?" said Pvt. Sanders, as he and Peterson headed over to fetch the big rolls of coiled wire.

Peterson shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Guess so."

"But I thought he was on his way?"

Just then, the loud military chatter suddenly died down a bit, and the two looked up from the supply bin to find that a good number of their comrades had stilled, all eyes on a Land Rover that had just pulled in amongst them. It rolled to a diagonal stop, and both of its back doors opened nearly simultaneously. The heeled shoes that appeared out of the nearest side were quickly revealed to belong to UNIT's Chief Scientific Officer, Kate Stewart. From the other side of the vehicle, quickly joining her, was a slim, young-looking man with smartly styled, thick brown hair. Peterson looked him over curiously. Too-short trousers and boots, collared shirt, his jacket long and purplish- all in all, he reminded the Private of one of those weird blokes his youngest sister had always hanging about the house, only odder. If that were possible.

It _had_ to be him.

And...blimey.

Peterson was glad that he wasn't the only one to shrink back a bit as the Time Lord went by with a face like an eerie storm cloud, leaving silence in his wake. He stopped within earshot, at one of the tables set out with scientific instruments.

"Primitive," Peterson heard him say, after he'd spent less than ten seconds giving it all a cursory once-over. "I warned you about this, Kate. I don't care to be here all day, trying to obtain any sort of accurate readings with this," -he gestured impatiently toward the table "...this lot of rubbish. I told you I needed my TARDIS."

Sanders and Peterson looked at each other.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm certain you'll make it work," Stewart told him, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears as she too perused the contents of the table. How did she sound so unperturbed? "You must understand why I brought you here the way I did. I couldn't risk having you disappear."

"Yes, well. It's like I said earlier. You don't really need my help with this. You just think you do." He picked up a state-of-the-art spectrometer and scowled at it, turning it over in his hands. "Humans," he muttered. "Always making a great big fuss over nothing."

Peterson leaned into Sanders and spoke low. "If he wants his ship so badly, then what'd he go and move it for?"

Sanders lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You should ask him."

With a tiny recoil at the very idea, Peterson shot another quick look at the Time Lord, who was now (rather violently) yanking wires from the back of what was probably very expensive equipment. "No way. I'm not gonna be the one to question his...his genius alien logic."

"Yeah," agreed the other man, nodding understandingly. He picked up a long, coiled extension cord and slung it over his shoulder. "Guess it's none of our business, anyway."

* * *

*If you'd like to read the details of Rose's last encounter with her Doctor, see Chapter 31 of "The Consequences of Dreaming".


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to the wonderful YouCleverBoys for the beta- and as I did not manage to leave well enough alone after she looked it over, all errors are my own.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

It was the same old story, really. The kind of thing that the Doctor had dealt with a million times if he had once. A predicament, a quandary, an invasion, an anomaly. Whatever. If he was anywhere in the near vicinity, it would suddenly become his job to sort it, like he was the universe's unofficial maintenance man.

Most of the time he didn't mind so much. It would be safe to say that he even enjoyed it; the challenge of solving a puzzle, the satisfaction that came from helping someone, from saving the day. Not that it always went smoothly. He had seen his fair share of tragedy and failure.

But this wasn't going to fall into any of those categories.

_This_ was just bloody annoying.

And not at all how he'd intended to spend his afternoon.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, the Doctor closed his eyes for a moment while he waited for Kate to return with Captain Magambo. The black asphalt was warm as he stood there, rocking on his heels, in the middle of a Chiswick street that was currently ground zero of an invasion. And it wasn't the fun kind, either. UNIT soldiers were everywhere- seven jeeps, three trucks and a couple of vans worth, which, in the Doctor's opinion, were far too many for such a small problem. He sighed, hearing combat boots pound the pavement all around him, and kept his eyes shut.

Two miles. Two measly miles to the west and he would have landed smack dab in the middle of Clara's front garden, as he'd intended.

Tetchy old time-ship. This was all her fault. Was it a crime for him to want to look nice before picking up Clara? His Tenth self used to spend as much time and more in front of that bloody mirror and the TARDIS had never complained, whereas he tries it once and what does he get? Sparks in the face, an abrupt sideways shift that sent him bum-first to the floor, and then a landing that was anything but spot-on.

The worst part was that he hadn't checked the scanner before sticking his head out, and happened to do so just in time to witness one of those black Jeeps go flying by. Of course, it didn't pass even close to fast enough for his blue box to go unnoticed, and after that it was all _"Code Nine, Code Nine"_, and his assistance being alternately begged for/demanded.

The Doctor had never so bemoaned the loss of a properly functioning chameleon circuit.

"Doctor?"

Blinking his eyes open, he found Kate standing before him, the awaited officer at her side. "Ah, Captain Magambo," said the Doctor, offering a tired smile to the second woman. "Good to see you again."

A flicker of surprise crossed her strong features. "Yes. And you," she replied, sounding rather thrown. Surely she'd been briefed about his new face? "You needed to speak with me?"

"Yes. I'm trying to understand something," he said, crisp and business-like. "And I hear you're the one to explain it." He clasped his hands together, facing her. "Now tell me, Captain. What, exactly, was the point of your recommending that all of these residents be forcibly removed from their homes this afternoon?"

Magambo flinched, but it was nearly indiscernible. "As you know, Doctor, there was a spike of artron energy here today. We realize that it in itself was not dangerous, but we don't know yet if it was a precursor to the forming of this spacial disturbance-"

"It wasn't. I told your people that hours ago and I've just proved it again, so don't even think of sending out an army every time you find an artron energy surge. The rift's opening is unrelated."

"Unrelated, maybe, but wouldn't you agree that a tear in the fabric of reality would be good enough reason for an evacuation, all on its own?"

He spared a quick glance for the sturdy wooden barricade and the soldiers standing guard at its corners. "Your set up, right over there," he said, gesturing to it, "would have been more than adequate. The fracture is minuscule. They happen all the time, though I do admit rarely on a planet's surface. Still, the thing is hardly big enough to send an elephant through."

Magambo was unwavering. "Doctor, if you recall, it wasn't an elephant, it was a delivery truck, and it disappeared into thin air in front of at least five eyewitnesses. People are scared. They need to know that we're taking this seriously."

"And what they don't need is for an entire bloody army to march on in, drive them from their homes, and scare them even more."

He turned to Kate, who'd been quietly listening, her arms folded across her chest. "Didn't you tell me that science was running the military these days? You know as well as I do that this isn't science. This is panic. Mayhem. Your typical emotional overreaction. Now fix it."

She considered him for a moment. "If you want all these people back in their homes so badly, then surely you have no objections to sealing the rift up for us."

"Of course I have objections, I have nothing but objections, and I'm tired of spelling this out for you. I do not muck about with the fabric of reality unless I absolutely have to. Have your people- and by that I mean two or three, tops- keep an eye on it for a couple of days. It'll close up on its own. No doubt it's in the process of doing so already." He reached over the table, flicking the switch on the souped-up spectrometer he'd cobbled together earlier, preparing to prove just that. As it powered up, he tossed Kate a grin over his shoulder. "All delivery trucks should be safe by now," he told her, "and elephants. Maybe not dogs."

He gave the device a bit of fine tuning. Even if that fracture hadn't shrunk in the slightest, he was going to say that it had, and then be on his merry way. Three hours he'd been here and he was tired- tired of UNIT and their rigidity, sick of their procedures and their questions. Twice already, he'd had to deflect Kate and her not-so-gentle probing about the whereabouts of the Ponds.

It was precisely why he hated it when people knew too much. He and Clara should be off on some grand adventure right now, he should be having fun, not fighting off the sadness. He'd only just begun to get over the loss of Amy and Rory, though the guilt, he suspected, would never quite disappear.

He didn't need people coming along and ignorantly prodding at his wounds.

People, and also holes in the universe, which had no business popping up out of nowhere, barraging him with memories of-

The Doctor shook his head roughly in an effort to clear it, and then swiped the fully-charged instrument in a wide arc over the rift.

"Okay," he said, turning to face the two women while giving the small display in his hand a casual glance. "Like I said, it's already-" He hesitated, frowning. "...Oh dear."

"What size is it now, Doctor?" questioned Kate, her voice low and concerned. She and Magambo looked at each other.

"Um. Well..." The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. "Best keep those trucks away from it for a bit longer yet. And any cargo vans."

* * *

_Ringringringringringring!_

With a long, drawn out groan, Clara bent before the mirror, gave her hair one last quick fluff, and then dashed down the stairs. What sort of weird notion had the Doctor gotten into his head today? He never rang the bell anymore. Just strolled right in like he owned the place, entirely unhindered by things such as locks or propriety.

She got to the door and flung it open. "Angie!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing back home? You've only just left ten minutes ago!"

The teenaged girl eyed Clara stoically. "Forgot my English book. Derek's mum is nice, and she ran me back so I could get it. What's got you so worked up?" Angie's mouth curled into a saucy smirk as her gaze dropped, fixing on the lower part of Clara's face. "Ohhhhh, I get it. You're wearing lipstick. And it's Wednesday, so that means your boyfriend's on his way, yeah? 'S he late or somethin'?"

Clara gritted her teeth. "For the millionth time, he's not my boyfriend. And he's not late- goodness, why am I explaining myself to you? Fetch your book then. Go on, hurry up." She stepped aside, ushering the girl past her into the house, and then waved at Derek's mum, who was waiting patiently behind the wheel of her little white Toyota.

Angie returned less than a minute later, thick book in hand, and skipped out to her friends without making any further comments. After watching the car pull away, Clara shut the door, and hiked back upstairs to her bedroom.

Peering into the glass above her dresser, Clara shook her head. "You are ridiculous," she informed the doe-eyed girl reflected there, and snatched a tissue out of the box, using it to roughly wipe away her dark pink lipstick. Why had she bothered with it in the first place? It wasn't as if the Doctor would notice anyway. And whether that was an alien thing or a bloke thing, Clara didn't know.

She ran a stick of lip balm over her lips and then flopped back heavily onto the bed, glancing toward the window. When, exactly, had she lost her control over this situation? Every week, without fail, the Doctor came to fetch her. It had been going on for months.

Clara being all in a tizzy over his impending arrival? That part was fairly new. And she didn't like it. It wasn't smart, it wasn't clever, it wasn't at all rational. He was over a thousand years old, a nomad with a bit of a god complex. He had these strange abilities she'd seen only inklings of and yes, at times he could be scary. He wasn't even human.

He certainly didn't _date_.

So what right did he have, looking so young and fit and being so charming, and making her, well...fancy him?

With a frustrated growl, Clara rolled until she was face-down on the mattress. She didn't want to fancy him. Yet here she was, planning her cutest outfits and smearing on lipstick and staring anxiously out the windows, waiting hopefully until whenever it was that he decided to show up. Did he get it? Have even the slightest idea?

Of course not.

Then again, why...why did he flirt with her? The Doctor was far from stupid. What if he knew exactly what he was doing?

Irritation flashed through her at the very idea and she scowled, lifting her face from the duvet. The feeling wasn't new. He irritated her all the time, and ooh, she should focus on that. Surely he had enough maddening quirks to offset every single one of his charms. Clara sat up, going cross-legged on the bed, and began to tick a few off her fingers. "One. Oblivious flirt. Two, thinks he's the smartest person in the universe, and I practically have to smack him to get him to listen. Three," she went on, with a glare for the still empty front garden, "he is _bloody unpredictable._"

She wasn't really upset with him for being so late. Mostly she was worried. Clara knew what kind of life the Doctor led. It wasn't safe, and she wasn't always there to watch out for him. Her head knew it was better that way, it reminded her that he had been taking care of himself for centuries. It was only her stubborn, defiant heart that continued to insist otherwise.

Her heart _wanted_ him to need her.

"I can't help it," Clara admitted to herself as she left her bedroom and headed back downstairs. "Maybe... I should stop traveling with him for awhile. Take a few months. Get my head on straight." It wouldn't make any difference to him. He'd just jump ahead in her timeline.

But by the time she had the kettle on a few minutes later, Clara had already decided against it. The traveling, the adventures- she was living her dream. It was in her blood now. As for her traveling partner's behavior and general attractiveness? She could handle it. She had to. And perhaps he really didn't realize the effect he had on people. He seemed far from experienced with that sort of thing. Or maybe, Clara thought with a grimace, he was just echoing her own behavior toward him.

"I'll just be a friend," she told herself, pouring the steaming water into the mug. "A friend, and that's all."

Cup in hand, she went and curled up on the front room sofa, unapologetically waiting for him. He was tremendously late today. It was already well past six. Strange, since if anything, he'd lately taken to showing up earlier and earlier.

At one time, Clara might have analyzed his possible reasons for doing so. But if he was truly anxious for her company, well, did it really matter? They were friends, a team, and she went with him because she loved the traveling.

Loved it.

So much so, that maybe she should go on full-time.

* * *

Rose made her way across the TARDIS' library with careful, deliberate steps, and gingerly set her overfilled mug of coffee on the table. Dropping into her chair, she bent forward, slurping a bit off the top of the beverage whilst wiggling the mouse to bring her laptop back to life. She squinted painfully as it glowed and brightened. Despite all the sleeping she'd done over the last few days, her eyelids still felt like sandpaper.

Clicking on the first tab of several she'd left open at the bottom of the screen, Rose alternated between looking at photos and real estate listings. She needed to find a place to live. Ever since she'd lost the Doctor, Rose had in many ways adopted his former lifestyle- roaming aimlessly about, helping out where she could, but never stopping long enough to really get to know anyone. She knew now that she couldn't continue on like that forever, even without the temptations found in the other universe. If she wanted to establish some sort of life for herself, she'd have to settle down, and form a few real relationships. Not only would that be good for her, but it would also go a long way toward easing her guilty conscience.

Choosing Earth was the easy part, although there were plenty of human colonies scattered across the universe. If she wanted, Rose could while away the rest of her days on some gorgeous resort planet, getting to know the locals while she perfected her tan on a sunny beach. But it would be nothing more than existing. She was sick of existing. Rose wanted to be happy. She needed purpose. And she'd had lots of experience defending the Earth.

But- and this was the hard part- which city? She wasn't fussed, as long as it was big and crowded with a pace that was dizzying. Rose had grown up in this world's version of London, which was precisely why it was out of the question. Living there again would be far too painful. And then there was the small matter of her actually being legally dead. She'd probably wouldn't make it a week without running into one of her old mates at a Tesco's or something.

Clicking through the rest of the tabs she had open, she gave each city a fair chance, trying to focus on the pros and cons of each one.

Paris. Los Angeles. Rome. New York.

New York. She kept returning to that one. While she liked certain specific things about each city in turn, New York City contained a special something, one particular "pro", that none of the others could possibly hope to match.

A dear old friend.

Rose slumped back in her chair, taking her mug with her, and cuddled its warmth against her chest. Living places weren't the only thing she'd researched in the past few days. She hadn't been able to resist the very human temptation to check up on a few people too. Namely, Mickey Smith. Leaning forward, she brought his photo up again, and studied his familiar, beloved features. He wasn't smiling, per se- it was a picture from his employment database- but he looked happy, his eyes bright and clear, his expression confident. Dear old Micks. Rose was surprised at the pang of longing that hit deep in her chest- even though the tiny glimmer of gray at his temples made it tough to ignore the fact that it had been at least a decade since he'd last seen her.

She took a long sip, contemplating. The urge to seek him out was almost overwhelming. But she was unsure. Not only had Mickey migrated to America, he was a married man now- married to Martha. For all she knew they even had a family. She didn't want to be a source of disruption in their lives. But, he had been one of her best of friends from childhood on, and he was also a person that she wouldn't be obliged to hide her past from, or her real identity. She could trust him.

And had it been Mickey seeking her out, having lost everything, she would jump at the chance to be there for him. She'd be angry with him if he _didn't_ do it.

And Rose had to be honest with herself.

She could really, really use a friend.

Tipping her head back, Rose drained the last of her coffee from the cup and powered down the laptop.

New York it was.

* * *

It was late, dark and cool, the pavement quiet and empty. All in all, a perfect night for wandering. And now that the Doctor was less than five minutes walk from the TARDIS, he realized that wandering was all he felt like doing. Funny, considering how he'd been chomping at the bit for hours, wanting nothing more than to be out amongst the stars. But fiddling around in the console room didn't do head-clearing nearly so well as a good long walk under a starlit sky.

He kicked at a pebble, heard it click and bounce off the brick of a nearby garden wall. Despite his persistent and unwavering claims otherwise, the Doctor was worried about that rift. It shouldn't be getting bigger, however incremental. That, combined with the unlikely fact that it had popped open right on the Earth's surface, made it a definite anomaly, and therefore not entirely predictable.

That said, the issue of the rift was not what was fueling most of his restlessness. Once he'd gotten his way, he had been fine, eager even, to leave everything in UNIT's capable hands, and hey, if things went pear-shaped Kate Stewart had his number. But he couldn't mentally put it aside. Like everyone, the Doctor had his emotional triggers, and rips in the fabric of reality was a biggie. He'd once lost the woman he loved through one. And even if thoughts of Rose didn't hurt quite like they used to, back when they were shrouded by hopelessness, they still made his gut clench and his chest ache in a way that he couldn't simply shrug off.

"Heads up, Mister!"

Returning to reality with a jolt, it was only Doctor's lightning reflexes that enabled to him snatch the flying football from the air, just barely saving it from a collision with his jaw. He squinted down at the round, white object, as if unsure how it had ended up in his hands, and then his gaze slowly panned over to a small crowd of boys. They stood all about the street, and a few of them were rather pop-eyed over his extremely close call with their plaything. A sly grin stole across his face.

Slowly, he tossed the ball from one hand to the other, back and forth, and then, in a flash, threw it high in the sky. He grinned outright as the open-mouthed boys watched it as it fell, nearly hitting the ground before he snagged it, at the very last second, with the side of his foot. There were several gasps as the Doctor went on with a series of quick, impressive maneuvers, bouncing their ball flawlessly numerous times between his knees and feet. For a finale, he went into a half sort of crouch, capturing the football in the well between his shoulders and the back of his neck.

This was greeted by a series of small cheers, followed by pleas.

"Cool!"

"Do it again, please!"

"Will you play with us?"

"Yes" was on the very tip of his tongue. He should do it, should run with these kids and get his blood pumping for awhile, rid himself of all the anxiety currently flooding his system. It would be fun. Fun_ny_ too. Blimey, Clara would laugh if she saw...

Clara.

Bugger. She was _so_ going to kill him.

With a wan, apologetic smile, the Doctor tossed the ball to the closest boy. "Wish I could, sorry. Got to be getting home now. Just like the lot of you, eh?" He nodded to the row of adjoined brick dwellings. The cool, fresh breeze made it a night for open windows, which spilled out yellow light and voices, the sound of televisions blaring, the occasional infant's cry. It was quite late, and even with the light of the street-lamps, quite dark. But the boys were typically undeterred.

"Nah, there's no school tomorrow," said one of the taller ones, kicking the football to his friend. They all scattered, taking positions, ready to continue their game.

With a wave, the Doctor hurried on to the TARDIS.

Clara was probably worried sick by now. The scolding bit would be first, and once she calmed down, she'd tease him without mercy. Not that he minded the teasing part so much. It always had a rather...well. Flirtatious quality to it. He shouldn't like it. And he really shouldn't further it, bantering with her until she gave up, pink-cheeked, quite unable to meet his eyes. It wasn't fair to her. He knew that, of course he did, but... she made him feel young, fun, desirable, in a way that no one had done in a long time. At least not since River had permanently gone from his life.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair as he walked, picking up the pace a bit as another heaping of guilt added itself to his unease. Why was he always so selfish?

Vowing to do better, he turned the final corner and came upon his Police Box, all lit up and glowing. Waiting for him.

He halted, abruptly.

She was not the only one.

A small, thin man with mousy brown hair was waiting too, slouched against the doors of the Doctor's ship as if he owned it.

"Sorry, but I think this Police Box is out of order," said the Doctor, slowly approaching the man. "Locked up tight. Do you need help or something?"

As he got a better look, he decided "small and thin"- was really more of a scrawny, like the bloke would fall over in a sharp enough wind. He wore a suit and tie of decent quality, though rumpled, and underneath the ship's bright exterior lights, the paleness of his face and darkly circled eyes were easily noticeable, adding to his air of exhaustion.

"Yes, that's exactly what I need," the man replied, the strength of his voice a clear contrast to his appearance.

"Alright then, who would you like me to call-"

"You." Straightening up, he took a step forward, and slid a hand inside the front of his jacket. "I need _your_ help. See, I know who you are, Time Lord. What you can do." His whole body trembled as he slowly drew his hand back out, and the Doctor went rigid- already waiting for the gun, even before he saw the gleam of its short metal barrel.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again to my wonderful beta, YouCleverBoys!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_"I need your help. See, I know who you are, Time Lord. What you can do." His whole body trembled as he slowly drew his hand back out, and the Doctor went rigid- already waiting for the gun, even before he saw the gleam of its short metal barrel._

* * *

"If you know who I am, then you should know that I'll help just about anyone," drawled the Doctor, low, slowly lifting both hands with palms out. "With one exception. People with guns."

Lips thinning, the man readjusted his shaky grip on the weapon, but he kept it trained on the Doctor. "Can't risk it. Can't risk you saying no."

"Yet somehow, I don't feel much inclined to say yes."

An breeze stirred to life, rattling the branches on the mostly bare trees, their erratic beat the only sound during the long, tense moments that followed. Neither man moved, though the Doctor's eyes darted furtively about as he weighed his options. Escape was unlikely, and he refused to use force. It would be foolish to count on help coming by. The pavement was utterly deserted, the singular overhead lamp on the TARDIS the only nearby light source against the thick darkness, a dim yellow spotlight.

With a determined look the man took a step toward him, but before he could speak the Doctor exhaled- a frustrated sound, drawn-out and dramatic. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, then. I'll play this your way. For now." He pointed a finger, considering him from deep-set eyes. "But only if you answer all my questions."

The man was silent, then gave a short, quick nod.

"Alright." He brought his hands together. "Who are you, and how do you know so much about me?"

His eyes flicked off to the side. "Name's Johns-"

"Don't lie," the Doctor cut in sharply.

He swallowed, but held the revolver steady. "Jenkins. Stuart Jenkins. I'm with UNIT. Everyone at UNIT knows about the Doctor, of course. The alien and his time machine."

The Doctor gave the rumpled suit jacket and trousers a once over. "You don't look like UNIT."

"I'm not a soldier. I'm, ah, in their IT department."

"Ha, I see. Hacked your own systems, eh, just so you could track down my TARDIS and threaten me. I'm sure UNIT will be delighted."

The other man's jaw tightened but he didn't respond.

"Quite the risk you're taking, isn't it? Risking your job, risking your freedom..." The Doctor took a careful step his way, and watched Jenkins' eyes widen, his nostrils flare as he inched back. "Even your own safety." He took a larger step toward him, and then another one. "All these risks. And when I also take in your aggressive posture, this unwavering eye contact, how your respiration is nearing," he paused, cocking his head, "oh, around thirty breaths per minute, you know what I see?"

Jenkins was silent, trembling and pale. His back hit the TARDIS and pressed against it as the Doctor closed the distance between them. "I see exactly what sort of man you are."

He could tell Jenkins didn't want to know. Yet despite his fear, he held the gun aloft gamely.

"You're a desperate one," concluded the Doctor softly, now so close that the gun bumped against a button on his shirt. Reaching up, he took hold of the muzzle, easily removing the weapon from the other man's grasp. "You're the sort of man who's never done anything like this in his life. So tell me, Stuart Jenkins, why are you doing it now?"

With red, glassy-eyes, Jenkins gazed up at him. "It's...it's my wife. I didn't know what else to do, where else I could go." His voice was broken and wavering, all of its earlier strength gone. "I need you to help me save her. Please."

The Doctor nodded and stepped back, giving him space. "I can try. What's happened? Do you know where she is?"

Hesitating, Jenkins took a deep breath. "Yes, but...it's not like that. She's not missing, it's just that...it wasn't supposed to happen, see? I had planned to pick up the suit myself, but then I forgot, and I needed it to wear to a wedding that weekend so I asked her if she'd run out for me before the cleaners closed and-" he paused, squeezing his eyes shut. "And if I hadn't, she never would have even been there at all. She would have stayed home, safe-"

An eerie chill crept up the back of the Doctor's neck. "Stuart," he interrupted gently, placing a hand on his upper arm. "Wait. Your wife. She was injured, yes?"

The small man nodded slowly, his eyes on the Doctor but not really seeing him, their depths distant and haunted.

"Did she die?"

His unfocused eyes instantly sharpened, narrowing in on the Doctor with blazing intensity. "Weren't you listening? She wasn't _meant_ to! Wasn't meant to be there, wasn't meant to cross that bloody street, wasn't meant..." He clutched at the Doctor's sleeve, his every movement beseeching and desperate. "Please. I know you can help her, Time Lord!"

The Doctor shut his eyes. Time Lord, indeed. If only the title were an accurate one, or even the least bit true. Then he could undo this terrible wrong, do away with such crushing sorrow- not only for this man, but for so many others. For himself, even.

Perhaps he should start telling people that he was Time's Servant.

Time's Whipping Boy.

He began to shake his head, gently. "I'm sorry-"

"No!" Jenkins shouted hoarsely, and the Doctor stiffened, backing away a bit in the face of such rage. "I don't want your bloody _apologies_, I want you to save my wife! You have a _time machine_, it would be nothing for you-"

"Stuart, Stuart," said the Doctor, placatingly, with his hand outstretched, "I need you to listen, okay? I want to help you, I do. I... I know how it feels to lose someone you care about. But Time- it doesn't work like that. Once someone's gone, they're gone, I'm sorry but it can't be changed, time machine or no-"

Jenkins kicked at a corner of the TARDIS, his face contorting, eyes wild. _"Liar!_" he screamed. "This is why I needed that bloody gun; they said you wouldn't listen! Don't pretend you know what it's like, you're not human, you don't care..." He gasped for breath, angry words trailing off into a sob, and he bent forward with his hands over his face. "Get out of here," he said roughly, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

"I don't-"

_"Go!"_

Shaking his head, the Doctor sidestepped him carefully and pushed into the TARDIS. Then he turned, looking out, before shutting the door regretfully against the sight of the small, forlorn figure on the pavement. As his heavy feet plodded their way up the stairs to the console, he opened his hand, contemplating the strangeness of a gleaming black revolver there upon his own palm. Then he abandoned the thing to a jump seat, beyond ready to dispose of it as soon as possible. He wiped his hand on his trousers.

"Blimey, what a day," he mumbled, smoothing back the hanging front lock of his hair, and made his way to the far side of the console. He picked up the phone and dialed. "Yes, hello," he said, in response to the recited greeting. "This is the Doctor. Yes, yes, now just listen. There's a man of yours here, he needs help, and I want you to send somebody to pick him up." He paused, listening. "Jenkins, I think. Yes." He gave them the location and rung off, toggling the Transit switch with his free hand.

As he waited for the circuits to power up, he went over and peered into the scanner one last time. Jenkins was still out there, now several meters away down the road, and he was talking with two other men beside a rusty old van.

"That's good," he said, absently noting the vehicle's odd appearance. "And quick. Very quick."

Jenkins jumped in with the men and the Doctor watched the van pull away, disappearing into the night, until nothing could be seen of it but two red specks of taillights. "Ah, mate," he said to the empty room, and gave the scanner a shove off to the side. "You had it all wrong. I'd've helped you in a heartbeat, if I only could."

But the man would be alright, given enough time. Didn't he know that better than anyone? Yet, he'd also lived long enough to know that time did not heal all wounds, whatever the old human-y adage might claim. Some wounds were eternal.

"You had it all wrong," he said again, quietly, as he pulled the dematerialization lever. "I know exactly how it feels. How it hurts. Do I ever."

* * *

"We've got the right junction, yeah?"

"Yeah." He consulted the in-dashboard GPS. "Coombe Road, directly off of Devonshire Avenue. That's what the Time Lord said, anyway." Tipping back his red beret, he scratched at his scalp. "But he's not here. No blue police box anywhere."

"And no Jenkins, either. Think the call was a crank?"

"I thought that before we even left. Let's go."

Engine revving, the Jeep pulled away, both soldiers glad of the false alarm.

* * *

The house was a good-sized Colonial, situated at the rear of the lot against a thick backdrop of shade trees. As Rose ventured up its winding front walk, she had to admit that the picture it made was a charming one. It was two-stories tall, with a high front gable, done up in a creamy beige wood shake siding that was set off nicely by brick-red shutters. The main entry was off-center, and a trio of large windows took up a generous amount of space to the right of it. Everything was nicely painted, clean and tidy, and all of it, along with the several well-tended pots of flowers, might have given the impression that its owners were rather uptight, if it weren't for the state of the lawn. While admittedly freshly cut, it was crossed all over with haphazard lines and jagged tufts of long grass poking up, as if the owner had been in a speed mowing competition.

Looking at it, Rose couldn't help but smile. She could practically see Mickey with that mower, going around in a mad rush, trying to get it done before one of his games came on telly or something. And if Martha had been the one to cut it like that? Well, that just made Rose like her all the more.

Still, neither thought prevented some massive doubts from reemerging as she climbed the few steps to the door.

"Knock it off, Tyler," she muttered to herself, as she raised a hand to knock. "S'not like he won't be happy to see you, no matter how surprised he is."

She knew she had every reason to believe that. Mickey was loyal, even to a fault. He had always continued to care about her (probably more than he should have), long after they'd ceased being anything more than good mates.

But- and this was where Rose hesitated, her hand stuck in the air- it had been so, so long. So much had changed for both of them. The last thing Mickey needed was to find his ex-girlfriend all huddled up on their doorstep, like some sort of lost soul.

Rose was still wavering, a lump in a haze of indecision, when she heard it- the distinctive crunch of tires on gravel, rolling up behind her. Dropping her hand, Rose bit her lip as her heart thudded. Too late. There was no changing her mind now.

She stood with her head bowed, partially facing the house, in some ridiculous attempt to put off the inevitable. Beside her, in front of the single attached garage, the rumbling engine faded to silence.

Rose slowly turned around.

Amber eyes met chocolate ones through the streaky windshield. An instant later Mickey's went wide, his idly curious expression blooming into one of open-mouthed astonishment. Rose sniffed, blinking back tears, a smile spreading across her face.

In the twinkling of an eye Mickey was out of the car, hovering beside the still-open driver's door. "Rose?" He stared at her, almost fearfully, as if she might just be an apparition.

Rose swallowed hard and raised her hand to greet him with a small wave. "Hello."

He blinked a few more times, shock turning to wonder, and at the first hint of his smile Rose couldn't hold back any longer. With a quick leap from the steps she ran to meet him, and got caught up in an enormous bear-hug.

"Gotta say, Rose," came his voice at her ear, as she buried herself in his arms. "Sure wasn't expectin' this today." Loosening his grip on her, Mickey tipped his head back, looking into the sky with a mock worried grimace. "There's not some problem with the stars again, is there'? Cos it sure can't be good if the two of you are suddenly showin' up after all this time."

Laughing a little, Rose stepped back, but kept her hands on his elbows while they studied each other. Mickey. Her dear, dear Micks. He looked great. Perhaps there were a few extra creases at his eyes and mouth to go with the tiny threads of grey in his hair, but he was broad and strong, self-assured. "Don't worry," she told him, twirling a strand of her hair. "It's nothing like that."

The forced levity in her tone didn't fool him at all. "Then why are you here, Rose?" he asked, feigned concern now genuine. "What's going on?"

Pressing her lips together, Rose looked away. She had been dreading this explanation, and here she was, being asked for it, right out of the gate. But at the same time, something about being here with her friend, a person she trusted whole-heartedly, was making the fortified dam she'd built within her buckle and crack. The truth it held back was heavy, pressing for release, shocking her with its strength. Valiantly she fought it...she couldn't put it on him already, could she, barely two minutes in?

She hesitantly met his eyes. They were just so familiar... all warm, knowing concern, like he understood, like he cared for her, just as much as he ever had. And suddenly, Rose knew that something so small, so minor, as the mere passing of years had never come between them at all.

"It's nothing like that," she finally repeated, abandoning her attempts at a smile. Her shoulders sagged. "But... thing is, I wish it was. Cos all of that stuff, I know what to do, yeah?"

The worry in his eyes increased. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not 'the two of us'," she confessed, in no more than a whisper. "S'just me."

His face darkened, suppressed anger showing tight around his mouth. "Where is he, then?"

Wincing, Rose gave her head a quick shake. "It's not... he didn't leave me. Not the way you're thinking. He's..." She drew a deep breath, gathering strength. "He's gone."

It was the first time she had said it out loud. The word echoed loud in her ears, made her want to break down all over again. Sinking her teeth into her lip, she forced back the lump in her throat.

"Gone?" Mickey was confused. Then he frowned. "You don't mean-"

She nodded, the movement jerky and tight. Mickey didn't waste any time before wrapping her up in his arms again. "Lord, Rose, I'm so sorry. That's awful. It just happen?"

"No." She sniffed wetly. "It was awhile ago. Nearly two years."

His arms tightened around her, strong and comforting, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. She didn't want to cry but a few tears leaked out regardless, tears of pain and joy mixed. Lord, what an idiot she was. But it just felt so good, being honest for once, secure in the arms of somebody who loved her.

Eventually Mickey took hold of her, gently pushing her out to arm's length. He studied her with narrowed eyes. "Please tell me you haven't been knocking about all by yourself that entire time."

Sniffing again, she kept her eyes focused on the collar of his shirt and didn't reply.

She saw his head shake, slowly. "Why?" he pressed, rubbing an eye. "Why would you do that? What about Pete and Jackie? I'm sure going home to them's not ideal but anything's better than you being alone-"

She twisted her body out of his grasp, turning her back to him. "I know, alright, I don't need you to lecture me on it. I'm here now, aren't I? Anyway, it wasn't that I didn't want to go back to Mum but-" Her lower lip wobbled, again, and she stared down at the gravel until she got it under control. "I just couldn't. Please don't make me explain. Not yet, anyway. I can't."

From behind, Mickey's hands stroked tentatively down her arms. "Okay, okay, I won't," he replied, his tone soft and soothing. "Just know that I'm awful glad you came, yeah? And Martha'll say the same thing, once she gets here. Did you know, by the way? That I got married to Martha?"

Rose turned to face him again. "Yeah, I'm so happy for you both, you have no idea."

"S'crazy, innit?" he replied, his eyes sparkling as if the news was brand-new, like he couldn't quite believe it himself. "And that's not even the craziest part. C'mere a sec." Mickey went back around to the driver's side of the car and Rose followed, watching him open the rear door. "Take a look."

As she peered past him into the backseat, her mouth fell open, forming an amazed O. "Oh, wow, Micks," she breathed, gazing down at a small, dark-skinned boy, fast asleep in his car seat. "Congratulations. What's his name?"

"Charlie. He's goin' on three already, and a bit of a terror. This is about the only time he's ever quiet."

"Oh, takes after his dad then?"

He grinned back at her. "You know it." Crouching down, he began to carefully unbuckle his son. "I should get him into the house. You wanna grab those bags?" He gestured with a nod to a couple of brown paper grocery sacks sitting on the other side of the benchseat.

"Sure," said Rose, but didn't move, smiling as she watched Mickey come up, his arms full of limp, sleeping toddler. Then she went around the car to fetch the bags, hearing the other door slam as Mickey kicked it shut with a foot. Up at the house, he hefted Charlie onto a shoulder and fished a key from his pocket to unlock the door. Arms full, Rose followed him into a sunny entry.

"Whoops," said Mickey, using his foot to shove a few stray shoes aside, back into a jumble of others that were stuffed into the space beneath a white painted bench. "Sorry 'bout all the clutter. Kitchen's right through here."

The entry led directly into a spacious living area, open to the kitchen at the back of the house, the rooms separated only by a granite-topped bar with stools pushed up to it. The large grouping of windows at the front of the house took up most of an entire wall, flooding the room with natural light. There was a staircase at the far left, and the floors were of dark stained wood, a large area rug laid in the center of the front lounge area. On either side of the rug sat two comfortable looking, dark-red leather sofas, facing one another, and a flat screen television hung over a pretty brick fireplace. Quite a few toys were scattered about. It was all very nice, but comfortable feeling, and Rose couldn't help thinking back on the run-down place Mickey had grown up in, his small, dumpy flat. Oh, it was true. She was so happy for him.

Mickey paused on his way up the stairs and looked back at her. "Martha's won't be home for awhile yet. She's prob'ly gonna kill me for letting him nap so late, but the poor little man's been fighting off a cold. Lemme just lay him down quick and then we'll talk some more while I start dinner. I don't suppose life in that parallel world has improved your skills in the cooking department?"

Rose chuckled. "Nope, sorry. Never did have much time for it."

Shaking his head in mock exasperation, Mickey headed up the stairs.

Rolling her shoulders to release some tension, Rose went and deposited the grocery bags on a kitchen countertop before padding back into the front living area. A long, narrow table, in front of the windows, was set with flowering plants and framed photos, and the latter caught her immediate attention. She went over for a better look, picking up one photo after another. First there was Martha in a hospital bed, a newborn Charlie in her arms, then several of Charlie alone that further proved him to be a mini Mickey whilst awake, all round chubby cheeks and big brown eyes. Their wedding picture was the largest in the grouping, set toward the back in a posh silver frame- a close up of the two. Martha, in all her white-gowned glory, looked to be every bit the stunning, radiant woman she'd heard so many stories about, and she smiled at the younger, boyish Mickey that Rose remembered.

Several books and photo albums were stacked on the table's lower shelf, though Rose probably wouldn't have paid them much attention if the colour of one hadn't drawn her eye to it. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the row of nicely bound, neutral covers, all garish bright pink and cheap, shiny plastic.

She knew that pink. Sliding it out, Rose took note of the cover and felt her heart skip. "Precious Moments" it was titled, in gold script over an illustration of a rosy-cheeked little boy and girl. She flipped it open to the first page and found exactly what she'd been expecting- her gap-toothed, seven year old self making monkey-faces alongside little Mickey, zoo cages in the background. Where on earth had he gotten this? It wasn't Mickey's album. It was her Mum's, just one of many things supposedly lost forever, left behind at the Estates.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Rose turned and found Mickey watching her, a baby monitor buzzing quietly in his hand.

"It was a wedding gift," he said, spotting the book, and answering her unspoken question. "Wasn't even wrapped, just left on the table at our reception with all the other gifts. But, ah, we were pretty sure of where it came from."

"The Doctor," she said, looking down at it and running her thumb across the cover. "He must've gone to our place right after Canary Wharf. He never said." Just the idea of it- the Doctor, grieving and alone in their abandoned old flat, made her throat ache. How enormously painful a memory it must've been for him, if he had never been able to bring himself to tell her about it.

She felt Mickey's gaze intent upon her. She laid the book on the table and changed the subject. "Gotta say, your place is great," she commented, gesturing to the room.

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed, grinning, as he sauntered toward the kitchen. Rose followed him. "We've been here awhile already," he went on, as he began unpacking the brown paper bags, setting fresh lettuce and tomatoes down across the bench-top, followed by boxes and cans. "Used to live in a flat in Uptown Manhatten, back when we were doing the agent thing freelance, but once Martha got pregnant we quit with all that. She wanted to go back to practicing medicine, and when she got offered a residency at the hospital here in Larchmount, that decided it. Here we've got all the perks of small town living, and my train ride into the city's only twenty-five minutes."

Rose hummed, nodding. "And you're working for UNIT, right?"

He paused in his unpacking to give her a look, eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh ho, I see how it is. You've been checkin' up on me."

Grinning slyly, Rose wiggled her fingers at him. "Course I have. Couldn't let all those hacking lessons you gave me go to waste, now could I?"

"Along with all those dimension cannon lessons, apparently."

She snorted. "Ha, like you ever taught me a thing about that. Anyway, that's not how I got here. How could I? Walls of reality are sealed up tight."

Mickey leaned back against the edge of the countertop and crossed his arms, trying to be cool, but the eager glint in his eyes betrayed him. He was dying to know. "Okay, Tyler, I'll play. This should be good. How'd you do it, then?"

Her mouth curved, faintly resembling the Doctor's in smugness. "The short version is that... I have a TARDIS."

His eyebrows flew up, nearly reaching his hairline. "So one of those Doctors got the TARDIS and you? How does that even work? I mean, the other one couldn't've-"

"Okay, wait a sec," Rose cut in, waving a hand. "Stop guessing, cos you're getting it all wrong. Yes, there were two Doctors, and eventually, _two_ time-ships. The one who came back here, the um, well, the original Doctor-" she wrinkled her nose, hating that term- "he'd left us with a bit of TARDIS coral. In time, we grew our own."

"Grew your own- never mind, you can explain that bit later," said Mickey, shaking his head and waving it off. "I'm still processing the fact that you, Rose Tyler, have got your very own TARDIS. I better not let that slip at work."

"Yeah, best not."

Mickey was quiet for a minute, thinking, as he took a large pot from the cupboard and filled it with water. "We'd guessed," he said finally, as he placed the pot on the stove and twisted a knob for heat, "having never heard from you again and all, that you had decided to stay with your family in the parallel world, and that the Doctor's clone probably stayed there too. Gotta say it was sort of hard to believe, though, since I know better than anyone what you went through to get back to the real Doctor. So why'd you do it?"

Closing her eyes, Rose drew a long breath through her nose, trying hard not to react to "_clone_" or "_real Doctor_". Plus, she was wholly unsure how to answer his question. Should she tell him the truth- that she didn't really get a choice? That she hadn't known what was happening? How she had been so overwhelmed, and then when one of them came out with that longed for I love you... No. Rose couldn't tell him any of it. It would make it sound as if she regretted what happened, and she didn't, could never...

She gestured to the vegetables, still lying on the countertop. "Can I make the salad?"

"Rose-"

"I'll answer your question, okay? S'just, I dunno, uncomfortable, us starin' at each other while I talk."

He sighed, then turned and opened a cupboard door, retrieving a large glass bowl. He handed it to her. "Be my guest. Knives are over there," he said, motioning to the area next to the sink, where a cutting board also resided.

With a nod, Rose scooped up the veggies and headed over to wash them. She heard Mickey rummaging around in the cupboard behind her. "What're you making?" she asked, rinsing the romaine and pulling it apart.

"Just pasta with marinara."

"Mmm. Sounds great."

He made a sound in response and then the two of them worked in silence for a few minutes. Rose struggled with how she could best answer her friend's question without getting into a lot of painful, unnecessary backstory. Finally she decided that while she wouldn't lie, she'd keep it as simple as possible.

"So," she said, slicing out a tomato's core with a twist of the paring knife, "you're right, of course. I had never planned on going back to that world after I found the Doctor again. But here's the thing. I had also never expected an opportunity to be with both my family and him."

Mickey was quiet, and Rose chanced a look over at him. He was stirring marinara sauce in a pan, and tilted his head when they made eye contact. "But that's what I don't get, cos by 'him', you mean his clone-"

"He wasn't a bloody clone!" Rose snapped, slamming the knife, bang, onto the cutting board. Taken aback, Mickey furrowed his brow, and she bowed her head in embarrassment. "Sorry. But you need to understand that the one who stayed was the Doctor, just as much as the one with two hearts."

Now he frowned at her. "What?"

And then it occurred to Rose that Mickey didn't know any of this. He'd been dropped off, back on Earth, even before she herself knew she wasn't going to stay on the TARDIS.

"They were both the Doctor," she repeated, deliberately, making sure he followed. "Equally. There was no clone. But the one who stayed with me- the one from the hand, that Donna touched- well, he was part-human. One heart. One life." She paused for a second before clarifying. "No regenerating."

Nodding, he gave her a sympathetic look and left that last part alone. "So, part-human, huh? Bet he didn't like that too much."

She smiled, remembering how terribly he'd taken to it at first, his reactions to any newly discovered change ranging anywhere from frustration to outright disgust. "No. But he got used to it. It just took time." Her smile turned coy. "I helped 'im."

"Oh, I'll bet you did," commented Mickey with a twist of his upper lip, before turning away and giving the sauce another stir. There was a note of something in his tone, something that made Rose feel like she was a bloody _teenager_ again, with Mickey teasing her about the Time Lord and (what he assumed was) her unrequited crush. She didn't altogether appreciate it.

"Oh, you don't know the half," she replied to his back, in the cheekiest tone she could muster. "I married him so fast the whole country was scandalized. It was perfect."

Mickey whipped around, his forearm whacking into the handle of the saucepan, and just barely kept it from spinning off to the floor. "You're kiddin' me!" he exclaimed, shoving the pan back onto the burner. "You two got married..." Suddenly his grin became a grimace, and he sucked a long breath of air in through his teeth. "Oh, Rose, I'm sorry. I didn't know...I mean, I always knew you loved 'im. But I guess I figured he just didn't, you know, do that sort of thing. Losin' a friend is bad enough, but if I lost Martha I don't know what..." he trailed off, noticing how tightly she had begun hugging herself. "Blimey, I keep sticking my foot in it, don't I? Must still be an idiot."

Rose shook her head at him. "No, no, it's alright. I... don't feel like you have to tiptoe around me, yeah? I don't want that. It doesn't hurt me to talk about him."

Mickey nodded, looking serious, and ran a hand over his short cropped hair. "So- why did you come back here, then? I mean, aside from your totally understandable desperation to see this gorgeous old mug of mine again. I was sort of assuming you'd be going after the other Doctor, but it's not that simple, is it?"

"It is simple. Those days are over. I am capable of being on my own, you know. As for him... well, I won't disturb his life. I'm sure he's out there somewhere, doing what he's always done, saving planets and galaxies, swanning around the universe. I hope he is, anyway." She shrugged, wanting to be done with the subject.

"I hear about him sometimes," he said carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. "You probably know he has quite the history with UNIT." She nodded and he went on. "Of course, each branch is focused on its own missions, so we don't really get much news from London unless it's big, and let's just say that the Doctor showing up definitely fits the bill. Not that it happens often or anything. But, at least it's nice to know that he's still alive and kickin'."

There was an unspoken "although" left hanging there. Rose shot him a half-hearted glare. "Oh, just say it. I won't break."

He ran a hand over his chin, scratching at the stubble there. "Rumor has it... he's regenerated again. Supposedly runs around in bow-ties now, of all the weird crap."

"Hmm," she replied, examining her fingernails, just barely suppressing a smile. Rose was highly disinclined to reveal that she'd actually met this new version, and had even learned of Mickey and Martha's own wedding from him. She could just hear Mickey now- "_Whaddya mean, Rose, he stopped by a parallel world to help you out for a weekend and catch you up on the latest gossip? Don't even try'n tell me he hasn't got it bad. He's gonna flip if he finds out you're back!_" That sort of pressure she could definitely do without. But, she was happy to know he was still with the bow-ties. It meant that he couldn't have gotten into too much trouble since she'd seen him last.

"Y'know, Rose," said Mickey, pointing his marinara-coated spoon in her direction, "there's nothin' wrong with saying how you really feel-"

"Pasta's boiling over," Rose said calmly, nodding to the stove behind him.

He spun back to it with a growl of frustration, just as the foaming water flowed over the edges and hit the burner with a furious sizzle. Mickey yanked the pot off the heat, cursing under his breath, and set it off to the side. Giggling, Rose nabbed a dish towel from where it lay beside the sink and went to help him, mopping up some of the water that had puddled over the flat, hot stovetop.

"Gimme that," commanded Mickey, joining in with her laughter as he tried to snatch the towel from her. "You're gonna scorch it."

She swatted it at him. "Leggo, it's fine, it's totally soaked-" Just then a sleepy whine came over the baby monitor. Mickey reluctantly released his hold on the edge of the towel.

"Be back in a mo'. Don't start any fires, ya hear?" he said, wagging a finger at her and smirking. Rose just rolled her eyes.

He left and she finished cleaning up the spill, then fished a strand of pasta from the pot and bit into it. On finding it still a bit hard, she decided it could use another couple of minutes. She put the pot of pasta back on the burner, and was just lowering the heat under the pan full of simmering sauce when she heard footsteps approaching.

And then there was a clinking, metallic thud.

Glancing over, Rose found herself staring into a pair of round brown eyes. Very startled, disbelieving brown eyes.

"Rose?" breathed Martha, never breaking their locked gaze as she slowly bent to retrieve her dropped keys. "Oh my god."


	5. Chapter 5

Beta-ed by the lovely YouCleverBoys. :)

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_"Rose?" Said Martha, never breaking their locked gaze as she slowly crouched to retrieve her dropped keys. "Oh my god."_

* * *

"Oh my god," Martha repeated, this time sounding even more alarmed. Rose's heart sank. She had intended to put her best foot forward with this visit, especially with Martha, and now here she was, scaring her to death in her very own kitchen. _Not_ the ideal way to go about it. The other woman's gaze broke from hers to dart rapidly about the room, and when it came back and fixed on her again, Rose could practically see her mind (and heart) racing. Martha's back straightened, stretching her to her full height. There wasn't much to her but she looked every inch a soldier, even in baby blue scrubs.

Except for her eyes. They gave her away. She was really a fightened mother.

"What's going on?" demanded Martha, slowly approaching. "What are you doing here? Where's my family? I know I saw Mickey's car outside so why isn't he-"

"Martha, Martha, oh gosh," Rose winced and held her hands up. "They're here, they're okay, totally fine. They're just upstairs, I promise. Nothing's gone wrong, though I understand why you'd think that, with... me bein' here in your house and all, so unexpected... I'm so sorry. I should've had Micks warn you..." She trailed off, no idea what else to say. What terrible timing.

Martha was silent, just stared at her like she didn't know what she ought to believe, her breathing shaky and quick.

Rose felt her face burning, and fought the urge to bury it in her hands. "Sorry," she said, again. "But really, honestly, nothing's wrong. I just sort of...popped by. Wanted to say hello."

"Hello? Is that all?" Martha exhaled, long and drawn out, and her lips turned up at the edges. She relaxed her stance a little. "Something tells me it's probably not quite that simple. Not if most of the stories I've heard about you are true, anyway."

"Oi, that doesn't seem fair," said Rose, with a small smile. "You know how Mickey embellishes."

"Oh, I don't know." Martha fiddled with her keys. "Looking into the heart of the TARDIS? Jumping into parallel dimensions? I always thought those stories sort of explained a lot, actually. Helped me to see why the Doctor always made it sound like you were the person who'd hung all those stars he's so fond of."

The comment was matter-of-fact, made without even a trace of bitterness, but Rose couldn't help but flush even redder. "I've heard plenty of stories about you too, you know. The Doctor spoke of you often. He thought you were amazing."

Martha's expression turned curious. "So you did stay with him- well, one of him." She slid her bag off her shoulder, coming over to set it and her keys down on the countertop. "Mickey probably told you, but we'd guessed that you'd gone back to the parallel world?"

Rose gave a slow nod, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. Her gaze drifted past the other woman, toward the stairway, and she began to bounce on her toes a bit. Blimey, Micks, hurry up. What on earth was taking him so long?

"So...were we wrong about that?"

"Um, no. You were right. And it was more like he stayed with me."

"Right, okay." Martha rubbed at a spot between her eyes, and Rose could tell she was frustrated. "Now I'm even more confused. Cos I was just imagining that maybe you've been on the TARDIS all this time, after all, and that the Doctor had finally managed to drop by for the first time in nearly a decade. That would be hard enough to believe, but now you're telling me you came over from a _parallel world_, and 'just to say hello'? I'm not stupid."

Sighing, Rose closed her eyes for a second. "That's...not how I meant it. Yeah, I wanted to see you two. S'not the reason I jumped universes."

"Ah, and here's the part where you warn me about the imminent cataclysm, yeah?"

"No, there's really nothing like that going on, I promise. I had...personal reasons." Rose stared down at her toes, rubbed her temples with two fingers. "It's a long story. But, I'm really sorry I scared you."

After regarding her momentarily, Martha nodded. "It's alright."

Rose offered her a small smile.

"So, the Doctor. Is he around here somewhere?" Martha came around the bar and into the kitchen, giving the room a once-over, as if he might be hiding under the table or something.

"Erm, no," said Rose, fiddling with a hoop earring. She looked out the kitchen window, noted the thick swatch of trees out back. Right now, she was seeing it as a great place to disappear. She'd never quite gotten the Doctor's almost morbid refusal to revisit any part of his past, but now, understanding dawned in full, vivid technicolor. It wasn't like she didn't know these sorts of questions would come up. But she felt like a snail, fragile, and so afraid she might be crushed if she came out of her shell.

Spotting the pot of pasta still boiling away on the stovetop, she gestured toward it, ignoring Martha's worried expression. "Do you have a colander around somewhere? This is gonna overcook."

"Course." Without another word, Martha opened a cupboard and took out a pasta strainer, which she set in the sink. Rose brought the pot over. She carefully poured out its contents, leaning back to avoid the steam, and then gave the spaghetti a quick rinse.

Martha was just handing her a bowl to put it in when a voice came from behind them. "Babe! When did you get home?"

They turned to find Mickey coming their way, Charlie in his arms. The little boy's head was lying against his dad's shoulder, his cheeks red as apples, but he broke into a wide smile at the sight of his mum.

"Oh, there's my little man," Martha crooned, going over and taking him into her arms.

"Um, Rose is here," Mickey told her, weakly.

Martha's lips twitched. "Yeah, noticed that. Still have no idea why Rose is here, though she assures me that the world is not ending." Cuddling the toddler close, she kissed the top of his dark-haired head.

Mickey's eyes met Rose's, full of sympathy. "Want me to tell her?" he mouthed.

Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged and mouthed back. "Dunno."

He raised an eyebrow and then turned to Martha. "Pretty sure the world's just fine this time around. Rose is here cos she needs us. Why don't we all get some food, and talk about it while we eat, yeah?"

With a reassuring smile directed Rose's way, he picked up a plate, piled it with a large amount of spaghetti and sauce, and then handed it to her.

Rose made her way to the table and sat, setting her dish down with a clink. She watched Martha buckle Charlie into his highchair.

This is a good thing, Rose reminded herself. Good for her to be here with her friends. Good for her to talk. Hadn't she always said as much to the Doctor whenever she'd tried to get him to open up, to finally deal with some of the things in his past that had haunted him?

Some of the things. Not all, she realized afresh, thinking of the pink photo album. Even though she and her husband were as close as two people could be, he had never told her everything. Some things were just too painful to speak of, and if she hadn't empathized with that before she lost everything, she certainly did now.

All she could hope was that Mickey and Martha would understand too, and be patient with her.

* * *

Twirling up another forkful of pasta, Rose let most of it fall back onto her plate before putting the remaining few strands in her mouth. Though her friends had nearly finished their meals, she had spent far more time pushing her food around than eating any of it.

But she was alright. Having a meal together was comforting, like a little piece of home. First it was always her and her Mum, then in later years, her and the Doctor- however crazy their life was, once it would all settle down again they'd eat together, whether back on the TARDIS or in some quiet restaurant. Cozy and intimate, it was a time to slow down and just be together. It was a time for connection.

Rose soaked it in, now that she'd lowered her guard somewhat. Martha, proving herself to be as kind a person as Rose had always heard she was, had refrained from pressing her with any more questions. Instead, she and Mickey had taken turns filling Rose in on the high points of what had happened in their lives during the years she'd been away.

Most of it was fascinating stuff. As the minutes ticked by, Rose felt more and more at ease. Her own laugh rang out with the others as Martha told of Mickey's reaction to her (very unplanned) pregnancy.

"You'd have thought he was the first man on the planet to ever get a girl pregnant," giggled Martha. "Took him about five minutes to get over the shock of it and then he was over the moon, ringing up all his mates and bragging like you wouldn't believe. As if most of them didn't already have their own kids."

"Yeah," retorted Mickey, "but none of those kids are as special as Charlie. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Charlie ignored him. At the moment, the little boy had eyes only for Rose. Though a bit snuffly and tired-looking because of his cold, he'd been all smiles from the moment he'd noticed her sitting across from him at the table. He was an irresistible little charmer, very articulate for his age, and quite the show-off and flirt. Rose was half in love with him already.

"You are pretty adorable, aren't you?" she told him with a wide smile. Charlie beamed, and crammed a fistful of spaghetti into his mouth, smearing even more sauce across his orange-stained cheeks. One filthy hand wandered into his hair.

His mother sighed. She'd given up trying to get him to use his fork. "At least he's eating tonight," she said to Rose. "Most of the time he's so picky, only wants to eat fruit and cereal and chicken and such. I'm sure it's because he's trying to impress you, but I'll take it. You wouldn't want to come for dinner every night?"

Laughing, Rose pushed her plate to the side. "Oh, absolutely, I'd love to have somebody cook for me-"

"Actually, babe," Mickey cut in, "I think it's a great idea. In fact, whaddya think of Rose staying with us for a bit?"

Martha blinked at him while Rose rushed to answer. "No, Micks-"

"You need to be with your mates for awhile," he told her, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Our basement's totally finished, and we never even use it. Great big guest bedroom down there." He turned to his wife. "You've probably guessed by now, but Rose is alone. She finally wised up enough to come find her friends, and I don't want her runnin' off by herself again just yet."

Rose glared at him, lips pressed tight, but Martha spoke before she could think of how to respond.

"I'm sorry," she said to Rose, her voice soft, "I know you don't want to talk about this, but it's pretty easy for me to see that something really bad has happened with the Doctor."

Tears instantly welled in Rose's eyes, entirely against her will. Swallowing hard, she blinked rapidly to fight them off. Martha bit her lip. She looked close to tears herself and met Mickey's eyes when he spoke.

"She lost him, love. Couple of years ago."

Before Rose knew what to think Martha was around the table, catching her into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry," she said, and hugged her tighter, which just made Rose want to cry even more, but somehow she didn't mind. "I wondered, but I was so hoping it wasn't that; that maybe you'd just gotten tired of traveling with him."

"No," Rose replied, wiping angrily at her stupid eternal trickle of tears and trying not to be offended. "I would never. He was my husband."

Martha's mouth opened and shut and opened again. "Wow," she finally managed. "Go Doctor."

Rose snorted, loud, and then started laughing wetly. Charlie, who'd been watching her with concerned brown eyes, furrowed his little brow further. He dug a hand down into his highchair and pulled out a goofily-grinning small stuffed snowman, which he offered to Rose.

"Aw, thanks, love," she said, taking it and turning it over in her hands. "But I'm okay now, I promise. Is this your Frosty the Snowman?"

"S'Owaf," said Charlie, pointing.

"What?"

"It's Olaf," Martha clarified for him. "You know, from _Frozen_? Disney movie? Can't escape it, no matter how hard you might try?"

"Nope," said Rose with a grin, shaking her head. "Never heard of it."

"Blimey, you really have been living in a parallel world." Martha still looked a bit awestruck. "A place with zeppelins, no _Frozen_, and a Doctor who settled down enough to get married."

"Oh, I don't know if the 'settled down' part's true." Rose put an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, and then brushed her hair out of her eyes. "S'not like he was a parallel Doctor or something. And he wasn't a clone, either," she added quickly, just to put that notion to rest once and for all. "He was the same man in every way, except...well. I already told Mickey this, but he was part-human, with a human lifespan. Thing is, I wasn't supposed to out-live him," she said bitterly. "That was a major issue when we were traveling together, and one of the main reasons that nothing ever...well, you know. Happened between us before."

Martha was quiet and Rose lifted her eyes from the table to find the other woman eyeing her. "So that's why you're here, then," said Martha softly. "You came back to look for the other one."

"No," said Rose, nostrils flaring, her jaw going tight. "You've got it wrong, completely backwards. His being here is one of the things that prevented my coming back for a long time. The other Doctor... has moved on. He's gotten along fine without me for years now. There is no way I'm going to interrupt his life again."

"Alright, alright. So why did you come back?"

Rose closed her eyes. "It's... complicated. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about it. Let's just say that I needed a fresh start in a place with no ties to the past."

"Speaking of the past, Rose," said Mickey brightly, steering the conversation to less sensitive topics. "Remember that time, back when we both worked for Torchwood, when we went face to face with those aliens who spit like camels- that nasty, horrible burning stuff?"

"Farisics."

"Yeah, okay. Anyway, they were all riled up, getting ready to let it fly, so I told you to stay back but you wouldn't listen-"

"Good thing too, cos I saved your sorry skin, literally. You just got a tiny bit in your hair," Rose grinned, "and then you complained for days because the smell wouldn't wash out. He ended up having to shave his head practically to the scalp," she informed his wife. "Twas a good look on 'im."

"Sounds hot," teased Martha.

"Cut it out, you two." Mickey shook his head. "Anyway. Point is, Rose, we were a good team, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed with a smile.

"What would you say to tryin' it out again, one of these days?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should come work for UNIT. With me."

Rose pushed back her chair so she could get up. "I dunno, Micks..." She leaned over the table, started stacking the dirty dishes.

Mickey took hold of her forearm and she paused, looking down at him. "Just think about it, okay? You'll need a job eventually, and we both know you've got way more experience than you'll ever be able to admit to. UNIT needs somebody like you. Plus," he puffed out his chest. "I'd love it, the old team back together. Good ol' Smith and Tyler."

Rose flinched, then grabbed the small stack of plates and headed for the sink.

Mickey called after her. "What'd I say?"

"Sorry," she said, pausing. She put the dishes down and turned around. "It's not your fault. Just...that's exactly what the Doctor used to call him an' me, when we worked for Torchwood. Pete made him take a legal name so he picked John Smith."

"'John Smith'?" Martha chuckled. "Blimey. Sounds like he really put his heart into it."

Rose breathed out a laugh. "Oh, you've got that right. Of course, he never really took to it, and after a few years passed by even the press referred to him as 'the Doctor.'"

"They really were the same man, huh?" said Mickey.

"Yeah." She leaned back against the countertop. "They really were."

* * *

The Doctor stood on the doorstep, trying to work up the courage to ring the bell. Normally he wouldn't bother, of course. He'd just let himself in, but tonight he was so late that he didn't dare. What if Clara was... doing something? Like...whatever it was that she did to her face before bed, when she always closed the door so he couldn't see. She had so many mysteries about her, that Clara. And he liked mysteries. He liked them even better when he could solve them.

Not this particular one, though. He had a feeling that if he solved the mystery of what Clara did to her face before bed with the door shut he might earn himself a slap.

Anyway.

Leaning heavily back against the door, the Doctor nearly fell inside when it suddenly flew open behind him. He whipped around to find himself fixed in a Clara Oswald trademark glare, her large brown eyes intimidatingly dark and angry under drawn eyebrows.

"Where the heck have you been?" she demanded, taking hold of his wrist and hauling him, limbs flailing, into the house. "And why have you been standing outside like an idiot for the last ten minutes?"

He opened his mouth, and she silenced him with a pointed finger. "Shush. It's because you thought I'd be mad, yeah?"

"Well, yes, and just let me point out that I was right-"

"Cos it's three in the bloody morning! _Friday_ morning, I might add. Did you really think I wouldn't hear you materialize out there, on the front lawn, right underneath my bedroom window? That ship of yours screeches so loud it probably woke half the neighborhood!"

The Doctor scowled. "The TARDIS doesn't 'screech'," he said petulantly, hands twisting about. "That sound, Clara Oswald, that is the sound of hope."

"Well, the 'sound of hope' is pretty obnoxious, then," she muttered, flipping her long, tangled hair over her shoulder.

The Doctor let that pass, taking in her shadowed eyes and long white nightgown. "So you were sleeping, then?"

Eyes narrowing, Clara looked equal parts exasperation and danger. "Seriously? Goodness, sometimes I'm surprised you've survived so long on your own." She reached past him and shoved at the front door, and then gave the deadbolt a decisive flip. He eyed her actions, highly suspicious. What was she doing? Clara wasn't supposed to lock the front door. At least not while they were still on this side of it.

"Yes, well, sorry I'm late. Something came up, and I couldn't get away."

Clara was quiet, absently playing with the ends of her hair, and he fidgeted under her steady gaze. He wasn't sure what to think when her expression shifted into concern.

"It was something bad, wasn't it?" She tilted her head. "You're upset. I can tell."

"No, no, I'm never upset..."

"You're upset." She took hold of his forearms. "Don't be pretending you're not. I do wish you'd tell me what happened."

Shoulders sagging, he blew out a long breath. "It's nothing, not really. Just, there was a person I wanted to help- I really did, but I couldn't. I felt like all I did was make things worse."

Clara's clear eyes bored into his, warm and soft. "You can't help everyone, Doctor. You may be clever and impressive, yes, but you're not God."

He snorted, a short puff of air. "Good thing, that." His thoughts drifted momentarily. "Although, I did know a person who was once omnipotent. I'd say that she handled it all quite well, much better than-"

He heard a huff, and came back to find Clara watching him, her lips thin with impatience. "_Anyway_. I wasn't really mad, earlier. I was mostly just worried. And annoyed, a bit," she admitted to his upraised eyebrows. "Especially since, yes," she poked him hard in the chest, "you did wake me up. If this ever happens again, just come the next morning, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, slowly, watching her as she headed back up the stairs. "So...you're off to get changed, then? Because I was thinking we could go to Hynor-B, and I'll tell you right now that your outfit is not at all practical. Ice planet."

She didn't even turn around. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"'_Good_night? I should say not, if you mean that you're going back to sleep. How boring is that? I never took you for a, a _boring_ person, Clara Oswald!"

Clara slowly turned to face him. "Better boring than cranky," she said, ominously. "You'll be fine for a few hours." She ascended two more steps, but before the Doctor could formulate the next part of his argument she spun around and came back down, eyes flashing.

"What do you mean, 'ice planet'?" Her hands went to her hips. "You promised me that I could choose next, and I pick Paris. Twenty-first century."

The Doctor made a face, though he was a bit afraid of making too much fuss for fear she'd go upstairs again. "But why... you could-" his nose wrinkled further- "you could take an aeroplane to twenty-first century Paris!"

She didn't seem to hear him; her eyes were brightening by the second. "No, wait... Los Angeles! I could go shopping on Rodeo Drive... or Fifth Avenue." Clara brought her hands together, clasping them in front of her, and met his eyes, smiling gleefully. "Yes, that's it. You're taking me to New York City!"

He gaped at her. "You just want a shopping trip," he stated, with as much disgust as he could muster. The prospect of this was only slightly less boring than her going back to bed. And New York City? If there was anywhere on Earth that the Doctor did not care to go, it was New York. Too many bad memories.

"Yep."

"We can't. Too hard to park the TARDIS," he replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. Technically this was only true of a time period much earlier in the century, but she didn't need to know that.

"Then we'll get a cab into the city." She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and then turned to re-ascend the staircase.

"So you think it's just that easy, do you? Well, I'll have you know that New York City is just layered with time-tracks, the last time I tried to go there the TARDIS- Clara?"

From the upper landing, she wiggled her fingers at him in a sleepy wave, and then she vanished into her bedroom.

"Oi, you don't still mean to go back to bed?" He paced, back and forth, at the foot of the stairs. "Shopping waits for no one, Clara. Clara?"

* * *

Sorry for the long wait on this one, and that there wasn't much plot furtherance. That's coming in the next chapter though!


	6. Chapter 6

Beta-ed by the lovely YouCleverBoys, and messed around with again afterward by yours truly. Of course, all mistakes are mine.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"You're late." The voice floated up from somewhere below him, surly, already biting at Stuart before the rusty metal door had clanged shut at his back. Careful of his footing, he descended the stairs, a hanging, singular bulb flickering yellowly above his head. It was colder in here than usual, though the tiny-windowed basement was no less damp and dark. With the late summer heat wave the big guy must be suffering. He'd really cranked up the AC.

"Sorry," he said, once he reached the floor and made his way to the group seated around the long, rectangular table. "You know how traffic gets this time of day-"

"We've had more than our fill of your excuses, Jenkins, nearly six bloody months worth," drawled Monica, without looking up from the screen of her tablet. "In fact, we don't even want to hear your sodding voice unless you finally have something worth sharing."

Stuart heaved a deep breath. "Well," he began, "perhaps I have a bit of a lead."

All six faces turned his way, unsmiling but expectant. Doubt curled in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps _lead_ was too strong of a word; bugger it all. What was he thinking, getting their hopes up?

"The, uh, Time Lord still hasn't been seen, sorry-" Eric Morgan's eyes instantly narrowed to slits, and Stuart hastened to placate him. "But UNIT suspects he's got a human traveling companion again."

Big Guy and the others simply stared. Morgan inclined his head expectantly.

He swallowed, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt cuffs. "And I've got her name. It's Clara Oswald, and she's originally of Blackpool. Remember the incident I told you about from a few months ago, with the Wi-fi? Oswald was there, and UNIT seems to believe she's been going around with the Doctor off and on ever since."

His news had Morgan out of his chair, looking happier than Stuart had ever seen him. "Well, well. Look who's finally started to earn his keep around here!" He clapped Stuart on the back, hard, and turned to the others. "Alien won't come out of hiding on his own, but Jenkins here has found us a nice bit of bait. Go on, then," he said to Stuart. "Give the address to Monica, so we can start sketching out a plan. You got a picture of the girl?"

Stuart looked away, focusing on a concrete wall. "No, no picture yet, but I'm working on it. And ah, no address either."

"What do you mean, no address?" hissed Morgan. "How stupid are you, Jenkins?"

Stuart shrank back. "I...I didn't forget. She doesn't exactly have an address on file, per se. Last official place of residence was her father's flat in Camden, but she hasn't been living there for over a year." He chanced a look at Morgan's face. The man's eyes were closed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Stuart's eyes dropped to the floor.

"Do you even care about this mission, Jenkins?"

"Course I do," he replied, eyes wide with sincerity. "I want to find him as badly as you do-"

"I don't think so. How could you? You weren't at Canary Wharf that day. You didn't _see _the power that Time Lord possesses. This city was absolutely swarming with creatures, and do you know how long it took for him to get rid of them all?"

"Only minutes, sir-"

Morgan threw his hands out to the sides. "It was _minutes_! And by the time he was through, most of my colleagues were dead. Torchwood was nothing but a smoking heap. What does the Doctor do about it? Swans away in his time-machine, off to who knows where, when he could have easily gone back in time to prevent it all. To undo _all those deaths._ But did he?"

Stuart dipped his head. "No. He wouldn't help me either, not even with the simplest thing-"

"We are the only ones left who remember," said Morgan, pressing his nose close to Stuart's. "He is the Earth's greatest enemy."

"We'll stop him," vowed Stuart, holding Morgan's intense gaze.

"Will we?" posed the other man, quietly. "And how do you propose we do that, Jenkins? I waited years to find someone like you, someone on the inside." His eyes sharpened, glared, and he pushed his finger into Stuart's chest. "But you never bring me anything but _bloody useless information!_"

A chill prickled his spine. "Don't worry," he said, feigning a confidence he didn't feel. "I won't let us down. Just, ah, give me a couple more days. I'll get you that address."

* * *

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Rose slammed her locker shut and gave the combo lock a hasty twist. She smiled to herself as she headed for the exit. It was Friday, only late afternoon, and already she was finished with work for the week. A full, glorious weekend stretched out ahead of her, free and whole and unplanned for the first time in ages. It was practically a holiday. She could hardly wait to get started.

Rose entered the corridor, taking an automatic left toward the building's main doors. The hallway was decently crowded, soldiers in black and red heading off to an assignment, and a few dressed casually, no doubt with similar plans to duck out early. But Rose hardly took notice of any of them. Her head swam with visions of novels and sunshine, pillows, a soft, tangled duvet. She'd finally have the time to prepare a really nice dinner for Martha and Mickey; that would be fun. They always liked to tease her about her lack of skill in the kitchen but she wasn't totally useless, they didn't know anything about her famous Carbonara-

"_Prentice_!" A hand grabbed her elbow and she started, twisting back in surprise. Belatedly she realized it was the third time he'd said her name.

"Sorry, Matt." Rose wrinkled up her nose. "I was totally somewhere else."

"Yeah, I could tell." His warm laugh rang out and Rose laughed too, looking up into his narrow, tanned face. Though she sincerely liked most of her co-workers here at UNIT, she'd admit that Matt Barclay was one of her favorites. He wasn't classically handsome but more of the twinkling eyed, expressive type, and he always seemed to be having more fun than he ought to. He was a lieutenant, currently head of her team, and was excellent in the role, his quiet leadership balanced by his great sense of humor and charming, American midwest manners. "Anxious to get a start on some big plans for this weekend?"

"Sort of." Rose smiled, but didn't elaborate. If she mentioned her distinct lack of plans for the next two days, there was a good chance he'd invite her for something or other, and Rose didn't want that. She liked him, but she spent an awful lot of time with him already, both at work and not, since he was close with Mickey.

More, she was getting the feeling that he'd like to be _close_ with her too.

His eyes flicked over her. "Hanging around the city for awhile yet?"

"I am, but why do you say that?"

"Because you look good." She shot him a look and he grinned, rather sheepishly, and ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair. "I mean, you always look good, of course. But somehow, this is even better than your old Mickey Mouse sweatshirt and jeans."

She laughed and smacked his arm, looking down at her form-fitting trousers and flowy, sleeveless top. "Oi, don't knock Mickey Mouse. That's the comfiest shirt I've got, s'great for sleeping in on the train ride home. But yeah, I've got an appointment with a realtor. Finally gonna look at a few flats today."

"Ah, so she's off to find herself a nice, posh '_flat_'," he remarked, in a very poor imitation of her accent. "Blimey."

"Shut up."

His boyish grin widened. "Seriously, though, that's great, Rose. It'll be nice to have you as a fellow city dweller. I'd ask you if you wanted some help, but unfortunately, I too have an appointment to keep."

"What for?" Rose looked at him as they started walking again, toward the doors. He wore jeans and a black _Radiohead_ tee-shirt, so he couldn't be off for anything too important.

"Haircut," he revealed, darkly. "And apparently, if I don't follow through this time, I'm putting my job at risk."

"I dunno." She tilted her head and pretended to study him. "Might be worth the risk. Sure you want to part with those pretty curls?" Although "pretty" was debatable. His hair was beyond shaggy and had been for weeks, curling up thickly around the edges of his beret whenever he was wearing it. Privately she wondered how he'd gotten away with it for as long as he had.

Matt grimaced, sucking air through his teeth. "You're right. Maybe I should let it grow for awhile yet. In fact," he went on, fingering the hair at his nape and pursing his lips, "if I let it get long enough here in the back, I could eventually get myself a mullet."

"No!" Rose giggled and made a face. "That's not funny, Barclay. Mullets are the worst. I don't understand why anybody would wear one."

"Seriously?" They reached the lobby's glass doors, and Matt tugged her off to the side, to be out of the way of those who were coming and going. "Oh, come on. Way back in the day it was the hottest thing. You know that at the time, women were all, 'oh, Tommy, I just love your curls'." His voice went falsetto and Rose couldn't help laughing, watching him mime running his fingers through long, imaginary hair. "And then those glorious days ended but nobody told Tommy, and now he's running the Ferris Wheel, and he can't understand why he doesn't get dates anymore. Unfair, that's what it is."

His straight face broke on the last sentence, and then Rose laughed even harder, covering her mouth with a hand. People were staring. "Maybe you'd best get the haircut, then."

"Yeah," agreed Matt, as he gave his watch a quick glance. "Wouldn't want to share Tommy's fate. Yikes, I gotta run." His eyes darted up, locking with hers. "You ah, you wouldn't want to meet up later tonight, would you? Have dinner or something?"

"Matt..." Rose shook her head, nose wrinkled in chagrin. "I'm sorry, but-"

"No, it's okay, I get it. You've explained it all before. It's just- you're still young, Rose, with a whole life ahead of you. And it's just dinner. Hardly a lifetime commitment."

Lips tugging up, she nodded. "I know. And I like you, Matt. But... it's not just about me not being ready." Rose lowered her voice a bit, watching the passersby. "I...have baggage. Quite a lot of it, actually. You have no idea."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "C'mon, Rose. We both work for a secret organization that specializes in extraterrestrial encounters. You think you're the only person around here whose past is a mystery? Let me guess- the name you use isn't your real one, you were a spy or an assassin at some point in your life, and this is probably the tamest job you've ever had. Whatever it is, I don't really care."

Rose crossed her arms over her chest. "You think you're so smart, yeah?"

"Um, yeah. And I don't hear you denying it." He tapped his chin, smirking.

She laughed and gave up, rolling her eyes. "Anyway. We both need to go. I'll see ya Monday."

Matt heaved a long, dramatic sigh, but he was still smiling. "All right then, _Rose_," he said, putting air quotes round her name with his fingers. "Enjoy your weekend." He pulled a door open for her and held it.

With a little wave she was off, down the pavement and beckoning a cab.

She sank into the backseat with a sigh of relief. Matt was going to be a problem. She just hoped he wouldn't say anything to Mickey, who would be less than pleased to hear that she wouldn't even consider having a simple dinner with his friend. Mickey's motto for her, almost from the day she'd arrived, seemed to be "Move on, move on." And for the most part, she was okay with that, had appreciated his help during those first few weeks when she'd hardly known which end was up. Mickey had gotten her this job, had introduced her to all of his friends, and- most important- had made sure that she had hardly any time left for wallowing.

Mickey also wasn't going to much like her plan to move out, Rose thought, watching the streets go by. Twice already over the last few months she'd mentioned wanting to look for her own place but he wouldn't hear of it, so she had remained where she was, comfortably settled into their basement. Not that she'd minded living at Mickey and Martha's- truth was, she loved it- loved being part of a family again. Plus she had practically her own flat there, bedroom, bathroom, and a small living area with a sofa and television. All it lacked was a kitchen, which would have gone mostly unused anyway. Suppers were a shared affair which they all enjoyed, and Rose felt a pang at the thought of them ending. She would miss her long, comfortable chats with Martha. She would miss Charlie.

At the thought of him Rose closed her eyes, seeing his sweet little smiles, his charming antics. Oh, how she adored that boy. Maybe she wasn't ready to go solo quite yet.

* * *

Saturday dawned. As the sun peeked out from the horizon, Rose Tyler lay flat on her back and stared at the brightening window- already irrevocably, frustratingly awake. An electric jolt had twisted her stomach and wrenched her from sleep, and now, laying there, she felt expectant and jittery, like she'd spent the night hooked up to a caffeine drip. She flipped over and buried her face in the pillow, utterly determined to sleep past noon.

Bloody time-ship, she thought, when she felt the jolt again. Worse than having a cat in your room, she was.

Clad in nothing more than the long tee-shirt and shorts that she'd slept in, Rose jammed her bare feet into her trainers and was out the back door in minutes. Birds sang madly, their joyful songs ringing clear in morning air that was fresh but chill, and Rose hugged herself for warmth as she tracked across the dew-wet grass toward the old toolshed at the back of the lot. Reaching it, she slipped inside with a tug of the old rusted handle. It was warmer in there but gloomy, lit only by one small grungy window, and the dusty scent of old potting soil stung in her nose like a sneeze. After carefully stepping around the dark shape of the mower, Rose came to yet another door. Smoothing a hand against the blue, she pulled out a key on a chain around her neck.

"Hello, girl," she said, pushing her way in.

The door creaked out a welcome and Rose felt the ship brushing against her mind repeatedly, excitedly, like a puppy eager for a walk. "Goodness, that a hint?" said Rose, laughing out loud as she padded over to the console and flicked a switch to bring the lights up in full. The Time Rotor pulsed smoothly, green and gold, and when she looked up at it Rose felt another wave of excitement. What was up with the TARDIS today? It couldn't be boredom. Sitting around for a few months was nothing, not to a being meant to live for countless millennia.

As she went round past the monitor it popped on of its own accord, flashing coordinates.

"Blimey," Rose murmured, shaking her head. "Somebody knows what she wants."

Hearing herself, she had a sudden flash of insight. "Somebody", indeed.

But it wasn't the TARDIS who was itching to fly off so badly.

It was her.

Her clever time-ship may have echoed it, embraced it, but the buzzing anticipation she felt was all her own. It had been the little surge of energy which propelled her from her bed this morning, sending her straight to the ship, and yes- Rose thought back- without the slightest qualm. For the first time in what seemed like forever she had entered the TARDIS without pain, without steeling herself against the echoing emptiness.

She hadn't even thought of it.

Part of her felt guilty about that, yet the tears that sprang to her eyes were ones of gladness. Impossible as it once seemed, here she was, healing. She was truly on her way to having what the Doctor wanted for her above all else.

Happiness. True, it was of a different sort than the all-encompassing, soul-deep happiness she'd had with him, but she'd take it. She had purpose again, meaning, and people who loved her. Things had changed so completely, it felt like years now separated her from her old life, instead mere months.

And she was doing it without hurting anyone.

Dabbing at the corners of her eyes, Rose smiled. The Doctor had been right all along, at least about most things. It had been good for her to come here. She felt strong again, like a person who'd recovered from a long bout of illness. Brave. And she knew exactly how she wanted to spend part of her weekend.

"Morning!" she called cheerfully, on reentering the kitchen and finding a bleary-eyed Martha seated at the table with Charlie.

Martha took her in. "Thought you'd be sleeping all day," she commented dryly, taking a sip of her tea. "What gives?"

Charlie rattled the tray of his highchair. "Want out!" he demanded, reaching for Rose with sticky-looking hands, one of which still clutched a half-eaten piece of toast.

"Not till you're all done, love," Rose told him. She looked at Martha. "Um, guess I'm going to take the TARDIS out. I'll be back later, so I don't want you to worry."

"Seriously?" said Martha, looking stunned. "Wow. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Rose nodded, looking her friend in the eyes.

"Okay, Rose, I believe you, so please don't get defensive. It's just- you've hardly been able to talk us about anything from your past, aside from a few stories and things. And that's fine, we aren't gonna push, especially since it seems like your distancing yourself from it has helped. I just don't want you to have a set back. Maybe you should take Mickey along."

"No," said Rose. "I need to do this on my own. Distancing myself- yeah, I have been, but I can't do it forever. It's time for me to start dealing with things. And I think this will be a good first step."

Martha gave her a small smile. "Any idea where you're going?"

"Not far," said Rose, though she had planned nothing. "Just wanna try a quick hop. I don't intend on time-traveling. You should be able to reach me on my mobile anyhow, even though I can't seem to soup it up like the Doctor used to do. Gotta get dressed." She went to kiss Charlie on top of the head, expertly dodging his filthy, grasping hands. "Have fun with Mummy and Daddy today, buddy."

She headed for the stairs, looking back just before she went down to find Martha's eyes still watching her.

"Oh, and Mar? I was thinking. If you two don't have plans tomorrow, maybe I could make dinner? Something special. I think-" Rose bit her lip. "Yeah. I think that I'm finally ready to talk."

* * *

All day the weather was drizzly and grey, but Rose didn't mind. Rain was a noteworthy part of life in London, so in a way it was the perfect setting for retracing the past.

Rose was not sure why she'd felt so compelled to return here. Perhaps she still wished for closure, since she'd been so suddenly ripped from this part of her past. Perhaps she was just tired of being afraid of things, or avoiding them. It didn't matter. Whatever the reason, it felt right. Just another step in bidding farewell to the Rose who used to be.

The TARDIS had materialized in one of the Doctor's old spots- just a few minutes walk from the old Estate she'd grown up in, though Rose had not gone there first.

After an hour or two she couldn't remember why she had ever dreaded coming here. True, some things had changed so much over the years that it made her feel a bit old and out of place, but for the most part, she enjoyed herself. Bus and Tube had taken her everywhere; past her old school, the garage where Mickey had worked, the pub they'd often frequented when her life had been nothing but food and sleep and nothing better. Then she went and browsed at Henrik's, but it wasn't as satisfying. As the store had been rebuilt long ago nothing was the same, making difficult to remember the place where she had first heard "run".

Even so, blue eyes, daft ears, and a gorgeous smile marked her thoughts relentlessly afterward. But it was part and parcel of coming here, so for once, she didn't try to fight them. And when the sight of the Estates made her picture her mum, waiting at the window, her mind's eye also saw the tall, skinny him at her side, long coat billowing out behind him.

She wandered around the complex for a time, ending up at the nearby playground. With the wind and wet the place was deserted, and Rose wiped a swing dry with the sleeve of her jacket before sitting on it. As she rocked there, her thoughts circled around to and stuck on the next Doctor, in his tweed jacket and floppy hair. She had never allowed herself to look up the Ponds, but she had certainly thought about it. She hoped that they still traveled with him. Leaning back, Rose stared up at the sky, tiny droplets hitting her face. Crazy, to think that he was actually out there somewhere. She'd never seek him out, but sometimes it was so, so hard not to want to. Another reason she could never live in this city. It seemed almost to belong to the Doctor, like his mark was on it everywhere.

Rose was hungry by now, and tired of prowling. But as she jumped from the swing, intending to head for the TARDIS, the evening sky, which had been steadily darkening over the last hour, suddenly opened up, the never-ending drizzle morphing into an all out downpour. With a squeal and laugh, Rose ran for the nearest street with open shops, ducking into the warmth of the first one.

Standing at a window, Rose idly watched other shoppers mill about for a bit while she waited for the storm to lessen. Before long she was bouncing on her toes, impatient. But if anything the clouds grew heavier, solidifying overhead like they meant to be permanent residents.

When thunder began pealing at regular intervals in the not-too-far-off distance, Rose gave up. Half-starved, but really not in the mood for a soaking, she decided to make the best of things. Tugging open the door, she put her hands over her head and ran, straight through the torrent, to the diner across the street. It would be a far better place to wait out the weather. She knew they had good chips there.

* * *

The soldiers on guard were a sad sight as the Doctor bid them farewell- two lone figures in the downpour, standing so sharply upright in drenched black slickers, their pitiful, useless umbrellas. He felt sorry for them. Felt, perhaps, even the slightest bit guilty about returning to his warm, dry ship.

He also felt like banging his head against the nearest wall.

His boots squeaked wetly as he climbed the stairs. Rassilon, months had passed and yet here he was, still mucking about with that stupid rift. He needed to get his act together. Apply his mind to it. Then neither he nor anyone else would ever have to stand out on that street again.

If only it were that easy. His mind was powerful, beyond brilliant, but it was also a willful, stubborn creature. And lately, whenever he tried forcing it to focus on that blasted hole in reality, it insisted on drifting off to the darkest tangents.

Rose, Rose, Rose. He couldn't prevent it.

Every part of his life had once been so wrapped up in her that it had taken him years to make the disconnect. Regeneration had helped with a lot of it. Some things though, would always be tied up with her. Bad Wolf and chips and beautiful smiles. Breaches. Synonymous with Rose, and synonymous with heartbreak.

As he reached the console, the portable scanner in his hand died with a weak, quiet beep. "Blast," said the Doctor, flipping the switch a few times before tossing the thing onto a captain's chair. He shoved his wet hair out of his eyes. "Now I'll have to make a new one. Guess it wasn't meant to be used in a bloody typhoon."

At least he'd gotten the information he'd needed. Not that it was all that helpful; the stats were the same as they'd been every week for months now. Why would that blasted rift not seal itself off? Worse yet, why was it increasing in size?

He moved around the console, gingerly working the appropriate dials and knobs, while trying to avoid dripping water down into the circuits. He breathed a sigh of relief as the TARDIS shook, entering the vortex. Distancing him from the place. Freeing one arm and then the other from his sodden jacket, he chucked it over a railing to dry and strode out across the length of the room, thinking.

At least the fracture wasn't dangerous. UNIT had it under constant surveillance, and they'd been steadfast in keeping people away. And although it was growing, the rate was so slow that it would be centuries before it reached a size that would cause any real problem.

On the other hand- the thing was weird. A bit of a mystery. The Doctor had never seen anything quite like it. In depth analysis had revealed the assumed tear to be far more of a tunnel, and not just any tunnel but a strange sort of one-way tunnel, like a shirtsleeve pulled inside out. It would be easy enough to correct it, if he only dared to take the TARDIS through. But who knew where he might end up? Or if he'd ever be able to get back?

There had to be another way.

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing," he moodily informed the Time Rotor. A small part of him wished that Clara was around today, to distract him, to challenge him. She was good at thinking outside the box. Maybe... He stuck a hand in his hair, tugging on the wet strands. Maybe he'd tell her about it, see if she said anything that just might spark some answers to life in his brain.

But deep down he knew he wouldn't, since there was no way he could talk about it without letting on just how much it bothered him. Clara would see it right off. And then the questions would start.

His teeth chattered and it suddenly occurred to him that he was shivering all over. For good reason too- he was still soaked to the bone, and trailing water all over the floor like an idiot. Brooding like an idiot. He'd never had an incarnation that wasn't inclined toward it, especially when alone.

The Doctor took off toward his bedroom. A hot shower was definitely calling his name. Afterward, he decided, he'd go pick up Clara, but just for the fun of having her around. To keep him from brooding. He'd done enough of that to last him for ages.

About thirty minutes later, the thoroughly dry and warmed-up Time Lord tugged his spare purple jacket from the hanger and exited his bedroom, thrusting his arms through the sleeves as he began to track the winding corridors back to the console room. But on reaching (what he believed to be) the appropriate hall, the telltale archway wasn't there. Just the door to the kitchen. He frowned. How distracted was he today? Turning on his heel, he forced himself to pay attention and this time took the path that he knew led to the console room.

Kitchen again.

His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms stubbornly. "Stop it. I'll eat after I fetch Clara."

He felt no disagreement from the TARDIS, so he went and peered around the next corner hopefully.

No arch. Only those bloody glass doors.

"Bugger- c'mon, I'm not even hungry!" On cue, his stomach rumbled audibly. If he was honest, the Doctor would be hard pressed to remember when exactly he'd last eaten.

Even so, it was another thirty minutes and at least a mile or two later before he was ready to give in.

"You're not helping, you know," he told the ceiling, scowling darkly, and shoved the glass door open with his foot.

Inside, the kitchen was warm and inviting as usual. It also smelled divinely of chips and other deliciousness, because when the TARDIS set her mind upon creating a certain ambiance, she wasn't about to do it halfway.

Years ago, near the Powell Estates, there was a fifties style cafe that he and Rose used to frequent. Mere weeks before he'd crossed the void for two stolen days with her, his kitchen (coincidentally or not) had suddenly become that old place's replica, and had been ever since.

In fact, Rose herself was the one who'd first recognized it as their dear old haunt. She had been delighted; the Doctor, not so much. He didn't get the point of it at all, and just chalked it up to the TARDIS attempting to please Rose.

After he'd left Rose behind again, safe, and happy with her husband, he'd expected to see the end of nostalgic old diners. But no- the TARDIS refused to let it go. Even when he lost the Ponds, those red booths and barstools stuck around, a striking contrast to the rest of the ship's new but somber blues and greys.

To this day he didn't get why his own ship insisted making the kitchen into a place to be avoided, nearly as much as he avoided Rose's old bedroom.

Well, if he was forced to be in here today he might as well make the most of it. The Doctor crossed the room and flipped the switch on the electric kettle, and then began rummaging around in the big stainless steel fridge. He never stocked it himself but since Clara liked cooking in here, she often brought groceries onboard. When Clara wasn't around, the Doctor usually ate only when he thought of it- mainly bananas and Jammy Dodgers, if he was on the ship. No refrigeration necessary.

With a small, victorious "ha!" he pulled out a covered pan- the remnants of the shepherd's pie Clara had made for them recently. Hurriedly spooning some onto a dish, he heated it up, pouring his tea while he waited. He grabbed the plate out when the warmer beeped, and with it and his nearly full mug in his hands, went to the door. Pressing against it with his back, he exhaled, happily relieved, when the TARDIS allowed him to escape.

He was happier yet to find the console room easily. After practically inhaling his food, he set the empty plate aside, sipping his tea while he punched in the coordinates for Clara's house. "Now that's how it's done!" he crowed as he stuck the landing, spilling not a drop of his drink.

His smile faded once he got the door open. Not only was still absolutely pouring rain, but... this wasn't Clara's front garden, nor even her neighborhood. Little shops and eateries lined the street, up and down.

"Not how it's done," he grumbled, and shut the door. He was sure he'd had those coordinates set correctly. He was even careful about it.

Sure enough, when he checked the monitor, his current position was not what he'd typed in. Even the date was off. It was still Saturday, not next Wednesday like he'd been aiming for.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I really don't understand why you dislike her so mu-" Catching sight of the viewscreen, he did a double take, and then pressed in for a closer look. "What?"

Before he could think he'd flung the door open and had leapt out onto the puddled asphalt. And then he was running, full out, entirely uncaring of the icy water pelting his scalp, heedless of it soaking all the way through his only spare jacket. A chasm could open up underneath him, right here in the middle of the bloody street, and it wouldn't matter; no force on earth could stop him now. For he'd seen the sign, hung in the plate-glass window, all half-dead, flickering neon letters.

_Ralph's Cafe._


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry about the wait on this one. RL has been insane lately. Hope you enjoy the new installment, which is far less error-ridden due to the always helpful YouCleverBoys. :)**

* * *

Never for one second did he consider that he might have literally leapt to the wrong conclusion. That she might not be waiting there after all, that it wasn't fate, but just bad driving or coincidence or misunderstanding. Or maybe some cruel, elaborate joke on him.

Perhaps he'd finally gone around the bend. He must at least _look_ mad, sprinting like a wild-man through swirling sheets of rain, but his hearts swore it would all be worth it; he would find Rose at the end, as sure as if he'd already laid eyes on her. His stupid kitchen, the inescapable thoughts of Rose, the TARDIS dropping him here instead of at Clara's- there had to be a reason for it all. Why else would his Old Girl go to so much trouble? Years had gone into making sure he wouldn't miss this moment, her persistent signals finally permeating his thick, hard skull.

At last the Doctor burst into the little cafe, thoroughly drenched and panting, and skidded to a graceless halt. His eyes swept the room (a dingier, noisier version of the one he was used to) to quickly zero in on a shadowed spot in the back- a corner booth, singly occupied.

He drifted forward for a better look, anticipation doing a slow crawl up his spine. All cuddled up in a dark blue hoodie, the girl sat close to the window, long, wavy blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Silvery-grey light slanted in through the glass and over her form, highlighting her outline but blurring the fine details of her features. It was her again, the ethereal being who had for so long haunted his waking and sleeping mind alike.

Beads of water dripped from his hair down his forehead and nose, and he absently wiped them away as he continued to stare. This was no wispy figment of dreams, here one moment and lost the next.

No, this was different; this girl was real, living. Breathing. Flesh and blood.

She was Rose.

She was _here_.

Why _now_ would be the time for doubt after doubt to begin to hit him, the Doctor didn't know. But- wasn't it surely too good to be true? He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again slowly, first one and then the other. Yep, Rose was still there, alone in a booth in the farthest corner, staring out at the rain. Chin in hand, her expression was soft, relaxed and dreamy, and she was so entirely unaware of his presence it was as if they still resided in two separate worlds.

Hearing no sound but that of his own laboured breathing, his eyes stayed riveted to the incredible sight. He half wished for Rose to look his way, half wondered what, exactly, he might do if she did. He'd found her, _found her, _she was back in his world after all this time and now... how was he supposed to bloody handle it? His hands came up of their own accord, and the Doctor twisted them to prevent their shaking. Awake, asleep, for years he had dreamt of this very moment, often so vividly he'd feel the thrill of it to the tips of his toes. But this was no dream. And although his extremities were trembling, it wasn't exactly _thrill_ that caused it.

_What if she wasn't happy to see him?_

It didn't seem as if he would find out any time soon- Rose continued lost to the world outside her window, unmoving aside from slow rise and fall of her lashes, like butterflies' wings. And then all he could think of was how beautiful she was. How badly he needed her to turn his way, to meet his eyes. With utmost care, the Doctor began to bridge the gap between them, the damp soles of his boots squeaking on the shiny linoleum, every second certain that she would look over. But she didn't, although he was attracting attention from a few of the diner's other patrons. Probably because he looked a right mess, terrified, barmy or lovesick or all of the above. Not that he cared about any of it.

Less than ten feet from her, he couldn't take it anymore. "Rose."

It came out hoarsely, and way too soft. She didn't even flinch.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "Rose?"

His breath caught when Rose suddenly lifted her head from her hand. With a confused frown, she tore her eyes from the window, looking around for whoever had just called her name. And then, for one blithe, dizzying instant, her gaze fell upon the Doctor. It traveled swiftly over him, head to foot, but before he could begin to react she'd already moved on- having shown not the least sign of recognition.

Breath quickening, he took a stumbling step back, utter dismay clenching the life from his hearts. _It couldn't be... What was he even doing here?_ Surely, surely, shouldn't his time senses be screaming by now, warning him? Things like

_Get out_

_2005 _

_Paradox_

_Colossal mistake! _

For it _was _a mistake, of course it was, he just hadn't been paying attention, why else would he have believed that the sodding universe would simply turn around and dump his hearts' desire into his waiting lap? No, no, this was all him, him bolloxing things up, _again. _Of course it was.

She didn't even know him.

He had already spun on his heel to make his escape, hot tears pricking his eyes, when a soft, bewildered voice piped up behind him.

"Doctor?"

His entire body jerked, the word a red-hot brand against the back of his neck. Slowly, he swiveled around.

Rose was still sitting there, with pink lips parted, only this time her eyes had locked onto him, round and awestruck, disbelief mixed with hope like he was some kind of miracle. Like...like he was everything she'd been praying for.

And it was too much. No one, not even she, had ever looked at him quite like that before, looked at him with such naked _want _that it was too much, just too, too much for his brain to assimilate, rendering him incapable of any reaction that wasn't involuntary and biological. His eyes tracked Rose, watched her slide from the booth, never breaking their locked gaze. And the closer she came the more his hearts raced, flooding every last capillary till his cheeks throbbed, hot and red and flaming.

Her hand came up without warning and pressed flat above the v of his waistcoat, his thin shirt no barrier against the heat of her skin. He gave a tiny yelp and Rose gasped, snatching her hand back, eyes going to examine her palm as if the fierce double thump of his hearts had been the very _last _thing she was expecting.

The Doctor swallowed hard, uncertainty twisting his stomach again. "Do...do you know me?"

The slightest lift of one of her eyebrows instantly reassured him. "Daft," she murmured, though she still seemed dazed. "Course I do. Already told you I liked this new you, yeah?"

Reaching out, she touched his bow-tie with her index finger and let it linger there. The Doctor watched her, trying to think of what to say, but then Rose inhaled sharply, her brow furrowing with sudden worry. "Oh, please tell me that's happened for you already," she said, searching his eyes. "Please say you know what I'm talking about-"

"It happened," he swore. "You said that, and then you asked me to not go changing my face again anytime soon." Holding his arms out slightly, he invited her gaze. "Ta da," he said, quietly, with just a tinge of cheekiness. "Still me. Guess you can't claim I never listen to you, eh?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he sobered immediately when she didn't laugh nor even smile. The stunned elation which had been in her eyes had rapidly shifted to something much darker. The Doctor was frantically combing through his last few words to find its possible cause when suddenly, in a flurry of movement, he was wrapped up all over with warm, clinging Rose.

Instinct had his own arms around her before he could think. "Thought I'd never see you again," she murmured against his shoulder, and the Doctor's hearts swelled to bursting. Oh, this was just what he'd waited for, dreamed of. Better than, even. It was what would've happened the last time he found her if not for that bloody Dalek; an all-encompassing, desperate embrace, so long, so tight, that he struggled for air.

Or perhaps it was the magnitude of all it that stole his breath. Was this really happening, after all this time? All the Doctor knew was that he never meant to let her go again.

Reality intruded with the sound of light applause. The Doctor drew back slightly from Rose, looking around quizzically. He'd totally forgotten that they weren't alone. Just in his immediate view were a family of three in the booth to their left, then a small group of teens seated together at the bar. All clapping their hands, watching him and Rose reunite with warm eyes and knowing smiles like...like they were watching a scene in a film or something, and a romantic one at that.

Somewhat embarrassed, the Doctor cleared his throat and dropped his hands from Rose's waist, taking a small step back. He looked down at her. Her cheeks had pinked but she was smiling, albeit a bit awkwardly, over at a frail, white-haired woman.

Then he noticed that the older lady actually had tears in her eyes, which he might have thought silly, had he not felt so much like crying himself.

"Doctor," said Rose, low, instantly drawing his attention. Taking hold of the sleeve of his jacket, she drew him back a ways, to stand beside the back corner booth she'd been sitting in. "What are you doing here?"

A smile appeared on his lips and his eyes gleamed, as the champagne of her nearness began to make his head spin. "What- what am _I _doing here? Now there's a question, and one I should really be asking you. But I won't, for I think the answer's obvious."

She tilted her head, her own smile unfolding. "Obvious?"

"Of course, Rose Tyler," he replied, relishing the taste of her name on his tongue. He leaned in close to her ear, as if sharing a secret. "Aren't we here for the chips?"

Her resulting laugh was surprised and real, and the Doctor grinned, reaching a swift hand over to snag a crispy chip from the basket on her table. He popped it into his mouth. "Yep," he went on, chewing thoughtfully, as his eyes drank her in. "Gorgeous. Even more so than I remembered."

Rose flushed, catching his meaning, but she swatted at his arm when he reached for the basket a second time. "Oi, you could ask first. I paid for those."

"I was counting on that." He made a show of patting his pockets. "No money."

Her eyes went soft. "Guess you're still a cheap date."

He should have smiled at that but the light moment had somehow gone. Intent on pulling her out of this place, the Doctor went for Rose's hand, but then she coughed and looked down at herself, brushing her hand over the front of her blue hooded sweatshirt. "Just look at this," she said, rubbing futilely at the dark, damp marks. "You got me all wet. What were you doing out there anyway, wandering around in the rain?"

He forgot all about curious onlookers. "Rose," he said, and waited for her to look at him. "I don't really wander, not really, not anymore. I was...well, doing what I always do, I suppose. Searching for you."

Rose glanced at him sharply, an odd expression crossing her face. "What? Why- why would you do that?"

The Doctor blinked, lost.

"I mean, you couldn't've known that I would be here," she went on, nervously tapping her fingertips together. When he didn't answer immediately her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "_Did_ you?"

The moment drew out as he squinted at her, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Somehow his statement had rubbed a good amount of the shine off of her. Rose was watching him keenly, biting her lip and waiting, as if with baited breath, for his answer- as if everything was riding on it. With a sudden flash, he remembered _exactly_ where he'd seen that look on her face before.

Bad Wolf Bay. Right after _"and how was that sentence gonna end?"_

He'd hurt her so badly with his answer that day. He had driven her away on purpose, into the arms of another. Never again. And while he was rubbish at these sorts of things, even he could see that him saying "_yes, Rose, the TARDIS told me, apparently she's known for years" _wasn't going to go over so well.

He nervously tugged at his lapels. "No, no, of course not. How could I? I just meant, you know, I hoped. I always hope."

Rose eyed him carefully for a few breaths. "So...you were just trying to sound clever?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Not doing so well, am I?"

His words hung in the air for a moment, until Rose laughed out loud. "You never really change much, do you?"

And then, impulsively, she hugged him again.

There was nothing else for it but to squeeze her tight, and the scent of her hair was sweet in his nose. All very, very good things, almost too good- and yet still not quite good enough, sparking other, possibly dangerous, ideas. How many other times had he done this; held her, whilst wanting her, but never, ever following through? All those barriers, all those walls. Supposedly for his own protection. But all they ever really did was separate him from everything that mattered.

That was why he'd long ago decided that if he ever had a second (fourth, eighth, _hundredth) _chance at this, he would never hide behind those walls again. And if this wasn't a chance, he didn't know what was. After long years of waiting Rose was back in his universe, in _his _arms by her choice. And no one else was around to claim her.

So when a voice called it out, the very words at the forefront of his own mind, the Doctor could hardly not see it as a sign from above.

_"Kiss her!"_

Rose pulled back when she heard it, a small, flustered laugh escaping as her eyes caught his. As she slid her arms from his neck he took a hand from her waist, but only to slide it against her cheek, cupping her jaw. As he tilted her face up, he felt Rose shiver beneath his fingers and that was all it took- heated energy surged between them, like a physical force, a cord, looping through and around their bodies, slowly tightening, drawing them together.

Leaning in, the Doctor closed his eyes, now breathing her air, and with every throb of his pulse he felt those tendrils of energy pulling, knotting, tighter and tighter, until he was nearly gut-certain that he'd never be parted from her again. It was almost as if their very souls were intertwining, just by this tiny bit of skin on skin contact- and thus far, he hadn't even touched her lips with his own.

Dimly in his head an alarm bell sounded, and he hesitated, just before the first brush of his mouth on hers. This... wasn't right. It was almost too strong, too intimate. Logically he knew it wasn't, even though they were in public, so why did he suddenly feel like a simple kiss would be pushing boundaries into the territory of borderline indecent?

He hazarded a look at time's branching possibilities, and what he saw there made him suddenly snatch his hand off her face. The Doctor's eyes flew open, locking with Rose's round and fearful ones. She jerked back from him, breathless.

"What was that?"

"Don't know, exactly," he said, darting a nervous glance around the room. "I...we should go." He grabbed her by the hand, but then the force was back, shooting up his arm to thread into his mind, like a circuit completed. Rose twisted away and it went dark again, but he had no time to contemplate why or what it all might mean because she was pushing him out of her way. Openmouthed, he watched her dart across the cafe's black-and-white checked floor until she was out the door, gone into the rush of wind and rain.

His feet were moving before he even told them to. There was a jingle of bells as he raced out the door after her, shielding his eyes as he looked to the right and then left. Catching sight of her, already nearly half a street away, he took off at a breakneck speed.

"Rose!"

She didn't pause or look back, if anything she only ran faster.

"Rose," he said, breathless, as he caught up, and snatched at the sleeve of her hoodie to slow her down. Rose swung around to face him. Her eyes were red from crying, fat tears mingling with the rain on her face.

Deafening thunder broke over their heads. "Let go!" she cried, trying to pull her arm away. "Don't you see, it's trying to trap you; it's all my fault! I should've known better, I should never have come here-"

"What?" She was still trying to get away so he grabbed her other arm, pulling her close, holding on tight with hands just above her elbows. "Rose!" he repeated, resisting the urge to shake her. "What's trying to trap me? You're not making any sense-"

"The Wolf," she said, going limp in his grasp. The rain fell hard and fast, pounding down on their heads and streaming cold over their faces, water turning the black paved streets into rivers. Over the rushing noise of it all he could hardly hear her speak. "Bad Wolf. She's behind everything; she always has been. Didn't you feel it? The burning in your head?"

Oh, he had, though he wouldn't describe it as burning. Heat, maybe, or home; it was the most fantastic thing he'd ever felt. But now he knew what it meant. "Rose, that wasn't Bad Wolf. That was just, well..." He shook his head, brushing aside the hair that had plastered wetly over his eyes. "If anything, it was _my _fault. I...I wasn't thinking. Not that I had any way of knowing it would happen, considering that it's probably a first in the universe, and I-"

He broke off when he caught sight of her; soaked, cold, arms folded tight across her chest. _Rose_. She was back, they were here, together, it was real. And he was going to bloody keep it that way. "I'm sorry, I still ramble on, I suppose. But didn't you recognize it?"

"The bond." Her eyes met his, dejected and tired. "But it has to be Bad Wolf, Doctor, it's the only way it makes any sense." Her voice was flat. "It's trying to force us to form a marriage link. I should know...cos I've felt it happen before."

He shook his head again, trying to ignore the chant of "she doesn't want you" that had begun to play on a loop in his brain. "No, Rose. It was trying to _fix _a marriage link that already exists. Because your mind... well, to put it plainly, Rose, it believes I'm him. And technically, it's right about that- I am him, so it can't tell the difference. But...it's just biology. There's no malicious intent involved, nothing trying to force us together. It's fine. We'll just...need to be careful, I suppose." He swallowed, waiting on pins and needles for her reaction.

Rose did not look at all comforted. Her head shook, slowly, lips tightening, as she tugged herself free of his grip. She began to back away. Rain poured steadily down, and the Doctor's empty hands clenched as he took her in; water dripping from the end of her nose, blonde hair hanging in dark, sodden strands. He stretched a hand out, trying hard not to panic. "Come back to the TARDIS. Please. Rose. We can talk about this there-"

"It could happen so easily," she called back, still facing him as she continued to step back and back, increasing the distance between them. "Doesn't it bother you? Your entire life would change, just like that." She snapped her fingers. "And you'll never escape me again. You'll never be free. I know that's not what you want."

"I..." She was so far away, and he didn't know what to do. What to say. How could she think such a thing? Did she seriously not get it, not realize how long he'd waited for her, for another chance, how he'd honestly wait forever if that's what it took? The words were on the tip of his tongue; if he even parted his lips at all they'd come spilling out. _I want this. I love you. Forever._ But a tiny shred of rationality prevented him. He couldn't tell her now, not when she was behaving like a skittish wild rabbit.

Dread filled his being when she spoke again. "We can't. We can't see each other. We can't be near each other or it will happen eventually. This is even worse than- it's permanent, you know. And... you have other friends, now. You don't really need me. Even if you think you do."

"Rose," he said, his voice desperate, pleading. "We should talk about this."

"I'm sorry." She turned away and ran, vanishing immediately into the grey curtain of rain.

The Doctor stood alone on the pavement, broken, disbelieving, entirely numb. What- what in blazes had just happened here? Had he really just lost her, Rose Tyler, the love of his life, _again_? Was this simply how their relationship was meant to be- nothing more than a tragic love story, her given to him, over and over, only for the pain of being taken away?

His jaw jutted, and he exhaled through flared nostrils, hands squeezing into angry fists.

"Shut up," he told himself aloud. "Stupid. Just look at you; already playing the victim. Poor Doctor, poor me, can't ever have anything I want." He stepped off the curb, marching across the bubbling wet asphalt, his body curved and hard with determination.

To hell with it all; he wasn't a victim. He was an _idiot_. The very same idiot who'd sent her away and the idiot who'd lost her and the idiot who'd given her to somebody else.

And now, for his latest genius trick, he'd bloody let her run off?

_Idiot_.

He sped up his pace, all out running for his TARDIS. First things first: he was going to find her. And then, he was going to fix this. Oh yes.

It may have taken him more tries than most, but the Doctor had finally learned his lesson.


	8. Chapter 8

**Beta-ed by the amazing YouCleverBoys. Go check out her first story! Also, I better give cred to Ashlanielle, since I stole a certain simile she used in one of our conversations. :)**

* * *

Rose Tyler was _not_ an idiot.

Yet at this moment, Rose couldn't help but feel that the term applied, in its most descriptive form, to a good number of her most recent decisions. Like choosing to revisit a city that was known to be the Doctor's most frequented stomping ground. Not only that, but doing so without taking the slightest moment to consider that she might actually run into him. Without formulating a careful, detailed plan of action if she did. Really, she should have worked up such a plan ages ago, since just returning to this universe was to risk seeing him again.

Instead, she'd -yes, it was really the only word for it- _idiotically_ gone rushing out completely unprepared, and the absolute worst had happened.

Well, almost the absolute worst- _that_ would have been her leaning up to press her lips to his in that breath of time when he'd hesitated, as she had so very nearly done.

Rose groaned, bending forward over the console as the TARDIS shuddered, safely touching down in the Smith's shed. The Wolf had been a literal hairsbreadth away from sinking her claws into what she wanted most- an unbreakable bond to the Doctor. Never in her worst nightmares had Rose imagined that it could happen so quickly, so easily, without any intent on either of their parts- just a rather prolonged touch.

The Doctor had tried to explain it away. "Biology" and all that. But Rose knew all too well that he was simply clueless. Poor man. He had no idea what he was up against.

Which made protecting him her responsibility.

As the ship went quiet and still, Rose gazed up at the Time Rotor, watching it slow to its resting pulse. She should feel so relieved right now. A narrow escape was an escape nonetheless. The Doctor was still safe, free. Independent and unharmed.

_Unharmed? Yeah, pull the other one,_ drawled the voice of truth inside her. Rose squeezed her eyes shut and tried to banish that last image of his face- pale and slack and pleading, utter heartbreak in his eyes. Why, oh why, did he still bloody care so much? It would all be a million times easier if he didn't. They still would have reunited with joy today, chatted and hugged, before going their separate ways to live their separate lives. Sure, Rose would have been pretending all the while that letting him go wasn't killing her, but that wouldn't matter. Pain was an old companion, and endurable- as long as it was only her own.

But she had hurt him. Badly.

Rose bit down on her bottom lip and idly twisted a dial, tears filling her eyes. She shouldn't have run off like that. Maybe... Rose sniffed, pushing roughly away from the console. Maybe she could still fix it, a bit. Apologize. Try to explain a few things, and help him understand. Somewhat buoyed by this idea, Rose headed off for a shower, peeling off her wet, clingy hoodie and flinging it over a coral strut on her way out of the console room.

Already working out what she might say, Rose twisted the faucet, and the hot spray quickly filled the small bathroom with steam as she wriggled out of the rest of her stubborn, soaked clothes. Finally free of them, she ducked into the shower, its heat instant bliss for her chilled flesh. With a small sigh, Rose relaxed, closing her eyes.

And all at once she was back in that cafe with the Doctor, her heart giving the same little joyous bound that it had when she'd first recognized him. Every instant of their encounter her mind went on to catalogue, her body vividly recalling the powerful rush that came from being held tight in his arms, caught in his dark gaze. Seeing such open, forthright love in his eyes should have properly scared her. Instead...it had been intoxicating. She'd completely lost her head.

She wanted more.

Rose dipped her forehead against the cool tile, letting the water pound down her back while she tried to get a handle on her turbulent emotions. Was smoothing things over with him truly necessary? Or was she just fooling herself, making excuses to see him again?

So selfish, again. Disloyal, too. Being drawn to him like that...he _wasn't_ her husband. No matter what her bloody _biology_ might believe.

She was so torn, but she needn't make a decision tonight. Although... Suddenly she stood up straight as another small problem made itself known. Blimey, she'd forgotten all about Martha and Mickey. How was she going to face them right now? Rose got out of the shower, quickly toweled off, and yanked on a dry pair of jeans and a clean white tee. A quick glance at her watch told her it was already nearing eight PM. They'd still be awake, of course. And probably very curious to hear how her day had gone.

Twisting her damp hair up and clipping it, Rose headed back through the TARDIS and out the door, exiting the shed to track across the back garden up to the house. Though it was already half dark, the air was still warm and muggy, a day leftover from summer. Fireflies blinked their tiny lights here and there, floating like fairies above the grass.

She entered through the back door into the kitchen. She could hear the television going in the next room over, blaring out some sports match. As she went around the corner, she could see Mickey and Martha across the way, cuddling on a sofa, and they must have heard the door because they both looked over, smiling a welcome. Thankfully it was fairly dark in the house, the only light coming from a couple small table lamps and the telly.

A moment later, a small force barreled into her legs and then clung tight.

"Up!" demanded an excited small voice. Charlie was beaming at her, face tipped up, his perfect little baby teeth shining like pearls.

"Oh, little man, you just make everything better," Rose told him, a real smile finding its way onto her face. She swung him up, tossing him into the air a bit, and he squealed, delighted. After hugging him briefly, she settled the toddler on her hip and went into the lounge. Mickey and Martha were grinning at her from the sofa, looking curious and expectant but not at all suspicious. The shadows must be doing a good job at hiding her puffy eyes. Maybe she'd get away yet without telling them all of what had happened.

"So, looks like you made it back in one piece then," commented Mickey, aiming the remote at the TV to mute it. "I was thinking that maybe you'd gotten the date wrong, like that other time. A few hours ago I rang Martha to hurry home so she could help me maintain my alibi."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him, Rose, he's so full of it."

"Oi," said Rose to Mickey with a faint smile. "I'll have you know that I'm a very good driver."

"S'that right?" Mickey smirked at her, pulling at his chin. "So...you skipped out on cooking dinner for us on purpose, then?"

Rose grimaced, shifting Charlie to her other hip. "Blimey, I'm sorry. I can't believe I forgot all about it-"

"Yeah, sure, I'll bet you did. Cos it was gonna be dinner and then some 'talking', wasn't it? That's what you told Martha this morning, so don't think we're gonna just let you keep puttin' it off now that-"

"It's alright, Rose," Martha jumped in, elbowing Mickey to shut him up. "We don't care about dinner. We were just a little bit worried that something might've gone wrong today."

"Nope. Here I am, perfectly fine," replied Rose, pasting on a bright smile. Charlie pushed at her chest and she set him down, watching him run with pattering steps over to a toy train he'd left lying on the other sofa. He began pushing it around. "Just lost track of time, I suppose." She leaned back against the wall, giving the door leading down to her bedroom a quick glance. She yawned, for effect. Maybe if she pled exhaustion...

"So..." came Martha's voice, quiet and cautious. "What happened today?"

Rose looked at her and oh boy, her friend was already oozing sympathy. "What makes you think something happened?"

"That answer right there, for one. The Rose Tyler who'd had a perfectly fine and interesting trip would be sitting here right now, telling us all about it without our asking. Not standing at the other end of the room, deflecting every question and looking ready to run off at one wrong word. I know you're so used to hiding your hurt, Rose, but don't do it tonight. Please."

Rose's shaky composure crumbled. Tears filled her eyes, and went rolling down her cheeks in slow streaks. Both her friends were on their feet before she could brush them away.

Martha got to her first and squeezed Rose into one of her warm, tight hugs. "It was too soon to be spending so much time in the TARDIS, wasn't it, love? You've been missing him today?"

Rose shook her head, slowly drawing out of the hug. "It's not that. Well, not really. I...I went to London today." Composing herself with a deep breath, she went over to the sofa where Charlie was still happily pushing his train around and sat down, picking up a little blue car. She rolled it across the cushion, crashing it gently into his train. Giggling, he drew a hand back and then smashed his train against the car again, only with far, far more force. Rose jumped, yanking her hand out of the way just in time, which elicited a full belly laugh from the little boy. She grinned in spite of herself, sniffing.

"Careful, baby," Martha admonished him gently, seating herself on the cushion beside Rose. "Don't hurt Rose's fingers."

Car and train in each hand, Charlie hesitated before bringing the two together with a loud _smack_ and another laugh, eyeing his mother to see if she might object to this.

Mickey planted himself on the opposite sofa, and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "So, Rose. London? Why'd you wanna go back there anyway?"

She shrugged, sniffing again. "Dunno. Felt like I needed to. I needed to tell it goodbye or something like that."

From beside her Martha's head bobbed understandingly. "Tougher than you expected, yeah?"

Silently, Rose crossed her arms across her chest. All she'd have to do was nod, let fall a few more of the tears than she was barely holding back anyway, and they'd be satisfied. She'd never have to talk about what really happened, how horribly she'd treated him...

"Being back in London was fine," she found herself saying. "I liked seeing it again, all the old spots. Maybe it felt a little weird bein' back, if anything." She trailed off, saw Mickey and Martha share a glance.

"Until..." Mickey prompted.

Rose closed her eyes, bowing her head, and felt Charlie drive his car across her thigh, down her knee. She reached a hand out, brushing her fingers over his soft curls. "Until I ran into the Doctor."

* * *

For the second time in one day, the Time Lord returned to his TARDIS drenched and dripping, trying to keep hold of the last shred of his sanity. Circling the console with singleness of purpose, his deft fingers rapidly worked the tracking monitor control board, preparing his TARDIS to connect with Rose's in a Remote-Parallel.

All TARDIS models were equipped with this system, enabling them to locate one another no matter the space-time coordinates. It would make his first task- finding Rose- fairly easy. As long as she had a TARDIS. The Doctor nudged the worry from his mind; of course she did. And he needed to focus on a more pressing dilemma- figuring out how he'd managed to so spectacularly muck things up today.

His natural impetuousness had played a very large part. It was a trait that seemed to carry over no matter his incarnation, and it wasn't always a bad thing. Rarely did he have the luxury of taking time to analyze a situation's every possible outcome before acting.

Yet in this case, half a second's forethought would have made for a far better outcome. What in Rassilon's name had made him think that kissing Rose was a good idea? Just... he'd wanted it so badly. Had wanted to so many times- even including the last time he'd seen her, when the waves of animosity rolling off of his double had served as a sure deterrent. But today, he'd seen nothing in his way. No angry spouse, no danger, no imminent parting. Not even his own stupid reservations.

He finished messing around with the settings on the control board and the TARDIS dinged, scanning the universe for her sister ship. Backing away from the console, the Doctor dropped wearily onto a jumpseat and rubbed his eyes. So selfish he'd been. He hadn't really thought about Rose at all, had he? What she might need. He hadn't paused to consider why she was back in his world. Puffing up his cheeks, he blew out a long breath toward the ceiling. He had waited so long for her to return. What was wrong with him, that he hadn't recalled would have had to precede it?

_"I kissed her,"_ the metacrisis had eventually revealed to him. _"I kissed her, and when we touched, her mind reached for mine almost instantly; unconsciously trying to reestablish what I identified right off as a severed link. Of course it would; it recognized me as her... her lost bond-mate."_

The Doctor let his head fall back. How badly he wanted to slap himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All of that must have happened by now. His duplicate's (no, Rose's husband's) death, as well as her subsequent trips back into their personal timeline. And while he still didn't know exactly why she would take such risks, he thought he could make a pretty good guess.

Hadn't he done something similar once himself? He had reentered Rose's timeline right before he'd regenerated, knowing how the sight of her might give him a tiny respite from the aching grief and longing. Needing, if only temporarily, a fill for the hollowness that comes from losing one so dear that it's truly like losing a part of yourself. And Rose's pain must have been even greater, since her very mind had been merged with his double's in a most sacred bond.

This time the Doctor did give himself a smack, hard on the forehead with the heel of his hand. That _bond_. Jealousy's sharp bite hadn't healed over for a long time after he'd discovered it. And if he hadn't been so bloody _impulsive_, it was a critical detail that he would done quite well to remember. Perhaps he couldn't have guessed that the connection would ignite between them the way it did, but in any case, he should have been far more sensitive, more mindful of her loss. Giving it a single thought would have long delayed him in making any romantic overtures.

He was paying the price for it now. The Doctor stilled, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he'd only trod more carefully, Rose might've been settling into his ship at this very moment.

Shaking his head, he made himself get up to check the scanner's progress. He hoped his ship was having better luck than he was, as he wasn't getting anywhere with all these should'ves and could'ves. All he could control were his actions from here on out. Slow and careful would be the name of the game. Even if he was rubbish at it. Even if it half killed him.

The control board dinged and the Time Rotor surged, signaling her readiness to exit the vortex. Gratefully throwing the lever, the Doctor gripped the console with a sigh of relief. At least _Step One: Find Her_ had turned out a quick victory.

Now, it was time for _Step Two: Beg For Another Chance._

He could only pray he wouldn't crash and burn.

* * *

"Where's Rose?" asked Martha, coming down the stairs to find Mickey alone in the quiet living room, kicking back lazily on the sofa.

"Said she was going to bed. She looked knackered, so I figured talkin' more tomorrow might be best anyway. Charlie sleepin'?"

"Yep," said Martha, setting the humming baby monitor down on an end table. "Went right out, thankfully." She plopped down on the sofa next to Mickey and snuggled up against him with a sigh. "So. Do you want to say it or should I?"

"They're both idiots."

"Agreed."

They chuckled quietly, and Mickey crooked his arm around her shoulders. "Why can't they just figure this out like normal people? Man. Have you ever seen anybody as stubborn as Rose?"

Martha blinked. "Normal people?"

Mickey laughed. "She's always been like that, though," he went on. "Stubborn. Almost impossible to get through to her when she's got her back up about somethin'. But what the heck was she thinking today? Almost lets him kiss her and then she takes off?"

"Oh, she was caught up in the moment. She loves the Doctor, but you heard her." Martha turned sideways so she could face her husband, tucking her legs underneath her. "She repeated it enough times. She honestly believes he's better off without her. We may not understand it or agree, but Rose's feelings are her feelings. And you know what I think?"

Mickey sat up a bit, turning toward Martha. "Yeah?"

"I think she told us maybe half the story. And I also think there's an awful lot playing into her reaction to him that we still don't know about. Stuff from her past. Like, what happened with the Doctor she was married to? How'd he die? So I don't know if she's dealing with some guilt over it or what. Though she's definitely still grieving."

"Course she is. The Doctor messed up big time, coming on that strong. Poor Rose."

Martha was quiet, trying in vain to even picture it. When she'd traveled with the Time Lord he was nothing if not private, only rarely revealing his deeper emotions, his vulnerable side. The idea of him attempting to kiss a woman- especially within minutes of seeing her again- was nearly incomprehensible. Yet, in her mind anyway, it made one thing very, very clear.

"He must really love her," she said, giving her head a tiny shake. "I mean, the fact that he had some feelings for her was easy enough to pick up on, years ago when I first went with him. But that was when he'd just lost her; when it was still so fresh." Mickey's brown eyes tracked her as she rested the side of her head against the sofa's soft leather back. "But to go on loving someone that much, even years and years later when you've had no hope of ever seeing them again..."

Mickey raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on. Martha drew a deep, shaky breath, trying to loosen the painful ache in her throat. "It's almost like... something out of a story. A fairy tale. And to be honest, I feel much worse for the Doctor right now than I do for Rose. She _ran away_ from him, Micks. He's probably tearing the planet to pieces looking for her. And you know what? If he still had that old phone of mine I'd ring him up right now and tell him where she is."

Squinting, Mickey looked at her skeptically. "And face the wrath of Rose Tyler? No ta. Besides, you can't really know that's how the old alien feels. Just cos he leaned in for a bit of a snog? For all we know it's nothing more than a new quirk of his; kissing people. Might kiss everybody."

"Oh, c'mon. You don't really believe that."

He gave a quick one-shouldered shrug. "That regeneration thing he does is weird. You never saw the other him, the first one I met way back. He was broody and dark and, and almost scary. Like an old soldier. Totally different from the bouncy smiley one that you used to know, who'd go around huggin' anyone."

Martha closed her eyes for a second, exasperated. "Love. That is _not_ what he was like when I traveled with him, remember? Which also goes to prove my point-"

But Mickey's attention had drifted elsewhere. "Speaking of him changin' his face," he interrupted, "I'd sure like to know how Rose recognized him today."

"Maybe he told her who he was."

"Nah. Too simple and straightforward for those two." Mickey's eyes glinted and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "I've got it. I'll bet she used her _Doc-dar._"

Martha snorted. "Wow," she replied sardonically, smacking him on the bicep. "Did you just think that up all by yourself?"

"Oi," complained Mickey, rubbing his arm. "That was funny! Doc-dar, get it? Like Doctor-radar?"

"Yes, love, I got it. Doesn't mean I want it. Now can you please listen for two seconds? I want to know what you really think about us trying to contact the Doctor. We could probably go through UNIT, send him a message- "

"And say what? Somethin' like- please let the Doctor know we found his long-lost girlfriend and by the way she's staying with us if he wants to talk to her?"

"Of course not, but-"

And then Martha was cut off, _again_. This time by their doorbell- ringing shrilly, over and over and over- in a series of drawn-out bursts, loud and insistent, as if someone was demanding entry.

For a few beats, Martha and Mickey stared at each other, wide-eyed. Then, without a word, she got up from the sofa, and with Mickey close behind her, went through the small foyer to their home's front entrance. She flicked the outside light on and the noise stopped. After a quick, fortifying breath and a wary glance back at her husband, Martha carefully unlocked the door and cracked it open.

With his index finger still poised in the air, a round-shouldered, tall-ish man was standing on the top step, rocking impatiently on his heels. As Martha got the door further open, she could see his face clearly under the light of the outside lamp. But aside from something odd about his eyes, nothing about him was the least bit familiar. Just a young (even younger than her) and rather attractive stranger, in spite of the deep agitation writ across his countenance.

"Oh! Martha!" exclaimed the man, in a most distracted manner, his gaze only briefly flicking over her, and then he leaned over with his hand on the doorframe and tried to see past her into the house.

A few seconds passed, and then all at once, his vibrating, buzzing energy went quiet and still, like a light going out. Those deeply set green eyes of his slowly panned back her way, zeroing in on her face. "Martha?"

"Doctor?"

He backed down a step, his fair complexion paling, and they stared at each other.

She knew it was him, of course. She had figured it would be. But now that he was actually in sight her eyes simply wouldn't let her believe it. She felt a bit bad, but how often in one's life did an old friend show up after years of absence, sporting an entirely new body? And as she took him in, for the first time Martha could see how Mickey's claims regarding the strange quirks of regeneration might have some merit after all.

His dress was eccentric enough all on its own- he wore a long, purple, tailed coat over a waistcoat, like he'd spent far too much time in the nineteenth century. The rumors of the bow-tie were all too true. But the weirdest part was that he was just so...so disheveled. His clothes looked spotty and stained and his thick dark hair, which was quite long on top, hung over his eyes in damp, matted strands. Running a nervous hand over it, the Doctor's eyes began to dart about, taking in the house, then the sky, and finally his feet, before he dared to look at her again.

"Martha," he said finally, his voice low and hesitant. "What are you doing here?"

"What...what am I...?" stuttered poor Martha. "I _live_ here."

"Yeah," piped up Mickey, from right behind her. "Isn't that a question we should be askin' you, mate?"

But the Doctor only looked more confused, and began twisting his hands in front of him. "But...and please, correct me if I'm wrong- did I, or did I not, just find a TARDIS in your garden shed?"

Martha nodded.

"It's Rose's," supplied Mickey helpfully.

The Doctor's eyes cleared, his back went straight. "She's here?"

He sounded so desperately hopeful that Martha couldn't help smiling, and she nodded quickly. "Yeah, she's been staying with us. You want to come in?"

She and Mickey moved aside, making way for him to step in- which he did, although seeming rather nervous. Martha shut the door, and then the three of them stood there in the small entry, just looking at each other, all unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor at last, dragging a hand over his face. "I wasn't planning- I didn't know you two lived here. I'm just..." He sighed. "This is probably really weird for you, eh? The new face and all?" He gestured to himself uncomfortably. "Surprised you knew it was me."

"It'll take more than a new face to fool us, mister," said Martha softly, smiling at him until he slowly smiled back. "C'mere, now. I've missed you." She pulled him into a tight hug. He stiffened for an instant, but then returned the embrace enthusiastically.

"Martha Jones," he said warmly, at her ear.

"Eugh," replied Martha, pulling away. "You're all wet. Why are you wet?"

He tossed her a faintly patronising look. "It was raining."

Then the Doctor went to hug Mickey as well, who made a face and stepped back out of reach. "Maybe later, Boss. You want some dry clothes?"

"What? No," said the Doctor, waving away the offer. "I want to talk to Rose."

Mickey raised his brows at Martha, questioning. She understood her husband's hesitation. Now that the Doctor was actually here, she wasn't so sure how it was gonna go over with Rose. Yet, how could they deny him? For one thing, it wasn't as if he was asking- that strong jaw of his was set and determined, steeliness in his tone. Not that she couldn't deal with that. What got to Martha was that hunted gleam in his eye, his quiet desperation. This was a man holding on by a thread, a man ready to fight- a man so possessed by his quest that his soaking wet garments had gone entirely forgotten, left to dry on his body.

Her tender heart absolutely wept for him.

"She told you what happened, didn't she?" asked the Doctor, all nerves again, obviously noticing their silent communication. "She doesn't want to see me?"

"Just wait," reassured Martha. "She didn't say that. She was just...upset, earlier. Felt bad for running off."

Hope sparked in his eyes. "It...it was my fault. I scared her, I think? I just reacted, I didn't know-"

"You'll get to see her," decided Martha. "It'll be okay. Thing is, she's probably not expecting you tonight, yeah? So gimme a few minutes to talk to her first. Get her used to the idea." She put a hand on his sleeve, fingering the damp purple fabric. "But while I'm doing that, Doctor, you do need to go get changed. I'm guessing you didn't park too far away?"

He was looking down at himself, touching his lapels as if surprised by their condition. "The TARDIS is next to your shed. I thought Rose was in there. But she wasn't."

"Yep, cos she's in here," said Mickey cheerfully, taking him by the arm and guiding him back toward the door. "She's not lost. But she's gonna like you lots better if you're dry. So go get cleaned up, and then come back in and talk to her."

After hesitating briefly, the Doctor nodded, opened the door and went out, screen door banging shut behind him.

"Would you please go with him?" asked Martha, giving Mickey a little shove. "Make sure he's okay?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "He's a Time Lord. Travels time and space. S'not like he's gonna get lost out in our garden."

"Just do it. You've got the easy part, yeah? Or do you wanna be the one to go and talk to Rose?"

Eyes widening, he was out the door in a flash.

Rubbing at her forehead, Martha headed back through the house and began to descend the carpeted stairs down to the lowest level, trying to get past her own shock so she could focus on the task at hand. What on earth was she going to say to Rose? The door to her friend's bedroom was directly below, and light slanted out from underneath the door. That was one good thing anyway- at least she was still awake.

If...she was still there. Martha lifted a hand, knuckles rapping softly on the bedroom door, sincerely wondering if she would get an answer. Surely Rose had heard the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell, and there was no way she wouldn't have guessed what it meant. She would have had ample opportunity to escape by now.

Martha didn't have to wonder long; no more than five seconds passed before the door swung open, Rose standing slightly behind it to make way for Martha to enter.

"He's here?" she said in a tired voice, more statement than question. After closing the door, Rose went and sat on the bed, fiddling with the corner of a pillow. In a pink vest top and long striped pajama bottoms, with blonde hair hanging loosely around her clean-scrubbed face, she looked like a scared young girl. Martha felt a swell of protective motherliness.

"Rose," she said, readying herself for argument. "You know how bad you felt for running off. Here's your chance to fix it."

"I know."

"You do?"

Rose gave her a tiny smile. "Yeah. I'd already figured I was going to have to, at some point anyway. Can't leave things like that between me and him. Besides, if I don't go and deal with him now, he'll never let me be."

Martha suppressed a growl of frustration. "Rose, c'mon. I'm sorry, but so far I have yet to hear even one good reason why he _should_ let you be. And don't even try'n tell me it's because you don't have feelings for him anymore."

"My feelings don't matter."

"That's rubbish. And even so, what about his feelings, hmm? Because I'd say it's pretty obvious to anybody with eyes that he is still in love with you."

Rose flinched. "That's...not his fault."

"What?" said Martha quietly, situating herself beside her friend on the soft green comforter. "Love, I'm trying my best to understand, but I can't when you don't let me in. I just don't know how to take that statement. You make it sound like someone is forcing him to love you."

"No," replied Rose slowly, drawing out the word. "But...someone is trying to force us to be together."

"What?"

Rose drew a long breath, seeming to come to a decision. "You remember the story you heard about me, when I absorbed the Time Vortex to save the Doctor?"

"Of course."

"Well. Thing is, that wasn't all I did. I had the power to do anything I wanted to, Mar. Control events, change time." She looked up at Martha, eyes shining with tears. "And I did. I made my own future."

And then Martha learned of two mysterious words, what they meant, and why Rose was fighting so hard against them.

And she began to understand, even if she didn't at all see things Rose's way.

Poor Doctor. If she'd felt bad for him before, she felt about a million times worse for him now. He would have his work cut out for him.


	9. Chapter 9

At the first sound of the Doctor's footsteps on the console room stairs, Mickey spun to look up at him. "Huh. Your hair looks loads better, I'll give ya that," he remarked with an appraising grin. "But why the heck are you dressed just like Rose's old Granddad Prentice? She's not gonna be too impressed."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, appreciating neither the comment nor how close his old friend was standing to one of the side computer panels. "Rose likes this coat," he said defensively, on reaching the floor. He smoothed down the tweed, its roughness still so familiar under his fingers even though he hadn't worn it in ages, not since he'd lost the Ponds. "The other ones were wet. And didn't I tell you not to touch anything?"

"C'mon," replied Mickey, lifting both hands in surrender. "What was I supposed to do, just sit around? It was taking you forever. Besides, how could I resist?" He ran a finger over one of the keyboards. "This is quite the setup you've got here. I've got a friend in IT that'd pass out if he-"

"Your friend isn't going to touch that control panel either. Or even hear about it, for that matter," countered the Doctor without looking at him, beelining for the door. "Let's go."

"Whatever you say, mate."

But Mickey made no move to follow; just stood there in an air of uncertainty. He had something else that he wanted to say, the Doctor could sense it. And as the Doctor could also sense that he no doubt wouldn't enjoy said something, he had one goal at the moment: escape the TARDIS before the man could out with it.

He'd just managed to flip the lock when it came. "So...you nearly snogged Rose today?"

Hand clinging to the door handle, the Doctor slowly turned and met his friend's eyes. "What?"

"You heard me. Why'd you do it?"

The Doctor was quiet for a moment. "You know why."

Mickey contemplated him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "For the record, Boss, Martha and I are on your side. But you gotta know that you messed up big time with that move."

"Really?" drawled the Doctor, dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

Mickey ignored his tone. "You should have talked to her first. Do you have any idea what she's been through?"

"I know...some. Not all."

Raising an eyebrow, Mickey looked a bit surprised. "Really? How's that? She's hardly told us anything, even after living with us for over six months."

The Doctor frowned, confused. She'd been back for that long and he was just finding out now? How was that possible?

"She wanted to start a new life," Mickey was saying. "An' did it, too. New job at UNIT, here in the States. Lots of new friends."

All of this new and unanticipated data swirled around in the Doctor's brain, settling into one particularly worrisome question. "New friends? Does- does she have..."

"A boyfriend?" Mickey filled in with a tiny smirk. "Nah. Not that plenty of blokes haven't been interested. But... I suppose you're a pretty tough act to follow." His smirk grew into a grin. "And I should know." Hands still in pockets, he ambled toward the Doctor. "Although, it _wasn't_ you, was it? Was that other you, the one Rose claims wasn't a clone."

He shifted to rest against the door. "She's right."

"And did you know he married her?"

"Never doubted he would for a second." He looked down, ran his finger around the curve of a coat button. "I... I wanted her to be happy."

"Yeah, but then he died and left her behind too." Mickey's voice was tight. "Did you know _that_ would happen?"

The Doctor was silent. Of course, the supposed matching forevers was his entire reason for leaving her with his double. With the near-immortal newly human, the scales weighing the two had finally balanced, and so perfectly it was almost as if destiny had lent a hand. Who was he to interfere? It was only much later, after their marriage, that he'd learned the truth- Rose would ultimately go on alone. But then, well, he'd made a plan to resolve that issue too. Only so far it wasn't working out very well.

Mickey sighed, leaning heavily on the railing. "And now she's got it in her head that you're better off without her. Though anybody who got one look at ya earlier would know that's complete bollocks."

He would have smiled but his mind had already raced on, forming that idea into another terrible question. "You don't- do you think that maybe Rose is better off without me? Whole new life and all?"

"Well," said Mickey, scratching at his chin and looking at the Doctor with frank dark eyes, "part of me wishes I could say that she was. Cos thing is, I don't quite know if I can trust you. But...Rose isn't happy. Don't think she's ever been meant for this sort of life." He shoved at the Doctor's upper arm. "So! Time for you to save the day. Get your alien butt back up there and talk to her."

He sucked in a breath. "Right."

It was fully dark as the two of them made their way across the soft green lawn up to the back of the house. Light shone from the lower windows and fell over the small patio, warm and welcoming, but with every step the Doctor's nervousness grew, for Rose's reaction to him might be anything but. "Talk to her." Mickey made it sound so very simple. Yet what if she refused to see him again? What if their meeting in the cafe had been his final chance, and he'd already blown it?

Before he could work himself into an all-out panic, the rear door swung open and Rose herself stepped out onto the stoop, hair glowing gold in the artificial light. Martha was there too, behind her like a sentry, peering out through the screened-in door.

When his eyes caught Rose's his steps faltered a bit. Her expression was guarded, yet she seemed so vulnerable clad as she was; summery pajamas, long hair falling over her mostly bare shoulders in tangled waves. She was his Rose of auld lang syne- the jim-jammed zombie hunched over the breakfast table, steaming cup in her hands, quiet, but always willing to indulge his endless prattling. Seeing her here, looking like...like she was the happiest time of his life made human- it made him want her back with him so much that his body literally ached. Renewed determination surged through his veins. It would happen.

"Hello," Rose quietly greeted him, and then she turned to Mickey, who'd gone up beside her to give her a quick sideways squeeze. A tiny smile appeared as her old friend whispered something in her ear before he slipped into the house, door smacking shut behind him.

And then they were alone together in the warm, dark outdoors, nothing but cricket chirps and looming, shadowy trees to keep them company. The Doctor and Rose stood in silence for a moment, smiling warily at one another before they both spoke at once.

"M'sorry-"

"So sorry about-"

They trailed off, laughing a bit. Rose motioned to a couple of thickly-cushioned patio chairs. "Wanna sit?"

He nodded and went over, situating himself in the farthest chair. Rose took the other, pivoting it to face him, yet dragging it back slightly to create more distance. Heart sinking, he tilted his face to the sky to hide his worry. "Must be quite overcast," he observed, "no stars tonight. Or moon, for that matter."

Rose had stopped moving and he chanced a look at her. She sat gazing skyward, bent forward a bit, arms tucked protectively round her middle. "I noticed," she murmured. "Nights like this always get to me a little. They remind me too much of my, um, dimension cannon days. You know, when the stars were going out? Thought I'd never find you again."

"But you did," he said, his earnest voice catching her full attention. "You were always braver than me, Rose. Stronger. And you always managed to accomplish the impossible just when I needed you most."

She snorted softly, disagreeing. "Oh yeah, such a lot of help I was. I think my greatest accomplishment that night was to nearly get you killed again, about two seconds after my arrival."

He made a reproachful sound. "That wasn't your-"

"How many years has it been now, Doctor? How long have you been without me?"

He looked out toward the trees, swallowing.

"You don't have to say," she went on, "but point is, how many times have you gotten into trouble and been just fine without my help? And even when you _did_ die, I wasn't there to save you, or even to hold your hand. Part of me hates that, so much. Yet it's good, because it proves that what I told you earlier is right- you don't really need me. Even if you think you do."

His eyes flew back to hers. "Stop saying that."

Rose shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Listen. I'm so, so sorry I ran away earlier. I overreacted, and I feel terrible for hurting you. But...you need to know something. I made a mistake in going to London. I didn't intend for you to find out I was back, because I was so afraid something like _this"- _Rose gestured between them- "would happen. You were fine. And now I've gone and disrupted your life."

"You haven't..." The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hurt welling at the confirmation that she had been avoiding him. "Okay, you're right. I've been without you for so many years now. Years and years without your hand in mine, without hearing your laugh, without being able to look into your eyes and see-" He trailed off, jaw clenching. "Anyway. I have no one to blame for it but myself."

Pausing, he weighed his next words. His coming on too strong had already sent her running once tonight, but... him, 'not needing her'? The very idea was bloody ridiculous. Risky as it may be, he simply couldn't allow her to go on thinking that way.

"So yes, I've had other friends. I've survived. But Rose...surviving is not the same as _living_. And...well, out of centuries of life, the most alive I've ever felt were during those two short years that we spent together."

He watched her swallow, the deep flush of her cheeks discernible even in the darkness. "I'm not that special."

A surge of anger heated him, had him on his feet before he could think. _Not special?_ How had his idiot other self spent all that time married to her and not managed to root such absurd notions out of her head?

"In case you haven't noticed, Rose," he said, pacing in a short line near their chairs, "I don't do this. Now, all of the people who travel with me are 'special' in one way or another. Yet I don't go back to visit them. I don't go back to help them, and I definitely don't go around begging them to come with me again. I don't..._marry_ them and do the whole domestic thing."

He abruptly dug in his heels into the ground and pointed a finger at her stunned face, all parted lips and wide eyes. "And don't you dare say that wasn't me who did it, Rose, because it _was_, he was _me_, and even down one heart and a TARDIS he was by far the luckier of the two of us." He was circling through the grass again, wringing his hands. "So you're right, Rose. You aren't special. I don't know if there's even a word for what you are to me. Because if you were simply 'special', shouldn't all of these..." he tossed his hands to the side, spitting out the word as if it were distasteful, "_feelings_ have died away once you'd gone, especially during the time when I had no hope?"

Rose had angled her face away, and although he couldn't see it clearly her posture had softened, her lips trembling as if she were fighting off tears. But...they weren't necessarily _sad _tears, he recognized in an instant. His words had affected her, true, and whatever internal struggle she was dealing with as a result- well, she certainly hadn't _hated_ hearing it.

Deep in his chest, a seed of hope suddenly germinated under this faint ray of sunlight. Was he actually getting through to her?

And then she blinked, brow furrowing. Her face turned to the Doctor's swiftly. "What do you mean, 'the time when you had no hope?'"

Her eyes searched his, seeking truth and finding it. "Oh, my god. You knew, didn't you? You knew that I'd be coming back! How-" All at once her face fell, her mouth drooping into a knowing _oh._ "Because he knew. Of _course_ he told you. That's why he was so insistent on my comin' back here if something happened. All that time, he knew you'd be waiting for me."

The Doctor said nothing, trying to get a read on her. Was she still angry? It was hard for him to imagine that she wouldn't be; normally nothing would have Rose more incensed than finding out he'd been hiding things from her. But she just sat there, slumped forward; limp, sad, quietly resigned. "I'm sorry," he said. "But was it so wrong for him to make certain you'd be cared for?"

Now Rose turned a glare on him. "I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can," he backtracked, half fighting a grin at the fiery light in her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. But- he was so scared, Rose, when he found out you were going to end up alone again. He'd...I'd...bugger it, _we'd_ already done that to you so many times. Before I showed up that day, he didn't know how he could fix it. And it wasn't as if he could just outright ask you what you'd want."

Rose shifted in her seat, wiping under an eye. "I understand, I do. It's my fault, really. If I hadn't been so selfish after I lost him, he never would have known about his own future. He wouldn't have had to worry about me. And neither would you. S'like all I do is hurt you."

He planted himself back in his chair, hauling it closer to her so that their knees were nearly touching. "He was much better, you know, once he knew you'd be okay. He was alright."

The corners of her mouth quirked into a fleeting smile. "Yeah? Well...I'm glad. Guess I did notice that he was an awful lot happier after you left. But I just assumed it was because, well, you know." Her mouth quirked again. "Because you_ left._"

He chuckled. "Quite right. I'm sure he didn't mind that."

Her smile widened, enough to look real. He was so thrilled to see it that he nearly took hold of her hands, which lay in her lap and tempted him. Blimey, this whole _no touch_ thing would take some getting used to. Digging his fingers into his knees, he cleared his throat. "I still need to apologize to you, Rose. For what happened earlier. Thing is, I think he- your Doctor- he and I had been seeing this only from our own perspectives. Being the same man, I suppose we rather viewed ourselves as more or less interchangeable. Neither he nor I really stopped to think that you'd likely see it all quite differently. So before, I just assumed that you would be okay with...well." He jammed a hand through his fringe, cheeks heating. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. And I do fully realize that I can't just step in and replace him."

"No, you can't," she agreed softly, "and you also can't realize how confusing this is. He was my husband, and we had a life together that you weren't part of. Yet, you are him. Gives me a headache, even tryin' to reconcile it." Rose gave him a wry grin. "Think there's a support group for this problem?"

He pretended to think, sucking air through his teeth. "Blimey, I doubt it."

At her soft laugh the Doctor's gaze turned serious. "Anyway, I just want you to know that from here on out I intend to be sensible. Especially since we can't risk- you know." He tapped at his temple. "The bond thing. We'll do this however you want; I promise no rushing. So do...do you think you might come and travel with me again, Rose? It doesn't have to be tonight or anything. I understand if you need time. I can wait."

"I...Doctor." She bowed her head, rubbing at a line between her brows. "I appreciate what you're offering, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to go. But...I just can't." Rose's voice went quiet. "Not ever. Because-"

"Wait," interrupted the Doctor, head spinning as if she'd suddenly walloped him. "Please. At least think about it, yeah?" His mouth had gone so dry he could hardly get the words out. She couldn't just say no, could she?

But she apparently could. Was. And her resolve scared him so much that his next words just popped out of his mouth. "I didn't find you by accident."

Rose gasped. "What?"

It was too warm, hardly any breeze. He needed air. Yanking at his collar, the Doctor pulled one side of his bow-tie until it came undone. "I didn't know you were back, but the TARDIS brought me to you," he admitted, now working at his top two shirt buttons. "Remember when you were there last, how her kitchen looked just like that old cafe? I never knew why, but I think she's been preparing me, all this time, telling me where I would find you again. And I can't believe that's for nothing. You and I together, it's..." His hands waved about as he searched for the correct term. "Destiny."

All the colour drained from Rose's cheeks. "Destiny?" Popping to her feet in an instant, she tracked out onto the lawn. "You don't even believe in that. Seems to me like it's something...nefarious at work. Something trying to bring you down."

"That's rubbish."

"Is it? You have no idea, Doctor! For all you know, I may very well be the death of you!"

Rose was barefoot in the grass, her hands fisted at her sides. The Doctor forced himself to take a deep breath, and then he slowly got out of his chair. "Rose," he said, stepping toward her, "you're not going to hurt me."

"S'that right?" she challenged. "Okay, let's say we do this. What happens if someone finds out about our relationship, and they try'n use me to get to you?"

He shook his head. "There's no use in worrying about things like that."

Rose's lips pursed. She had a funny look on her face. "What...what if it was because they discovered that I know your name?"

He went stone still, staring at her.

"You never thought of that?" She twisted the bottom of her pink vest top. "I know your name, and I also know that there are those in this universe who'd do anything to find out what it is. Doesn't that scare you?"

The Doctor took a minute to gather himself. "No. I trust you."

She blinked a little at that, as if he'd just thrown out her trump card. Then he saw her face darken. "S'that because I'm not the first person to know it?"

His jaw dropped. Oh, dear lord, she wasn't going to bring up-

"Must've trusted her then too. A lot."

It took everything he had in him not to yank his hair and sigh audibly. This was so incredibly frustrating. One step forward, two steps back. Rose was just spoiling for a fight, it seemed. She was pulling out all the stops, using everything she could to push him away. And yet, the jealousy in her tone told him that she also wanted reassurance. She did not at all like the idea of another woman in his life.

"Trust River? Occasionally. At best. She was..." He gestured helplessly under her penetrating stare. "...complicated."

She sniffed, looking away. "I'll bet."

"Well, she was!" He puffed up his cheeks and blew a long breath toward the sky. "Literally a complicated event in time and space. We always met out of order. She died the first time I met her; gave her life for millions, saved me from sacrificing mine. Nearly scared me into my next regeneration when she came out with my name. But you already knew all of that, eh?"

"So why don't you tell me something I don't know? Like where is she now? She's your wife, Doctor."

"She's not."

"Don't. Are you forgetting that I might understand a bit of how this works? She knows your _name. _How else could she have bloody learned it?"

He pulled at one corner of his opened collar, ignoring her language. "I wish I knew."

Crossing her arms, Rose turned away. "It's not like you owe me. I shouldn't have asked."

"I'm not- I'm not _lying_ to you, Rose," he replied, circling around her so he could meet her eye. "Okay? I sincerely don't know, because I never told her!"

With a skeptical shrug, she turned away again without answering, and his temper flared. "Why does it matter, anyway? Even if I had married her, she's dead! Remember that bit?"

She looked at him then. "Se-man-tics," she replied, clearly enunciating each syllable. "One of your favorite tricks when you're trying to skirt an issue, yeah? An' my Doctor long knew better than to try it on me."

"That's not-"

"And I also understand the mechanics of time travel, probably better than any other person alive who wasn't actually born on Gallifrey. You meet her out of order, Doctor. So what if she died? She could still show up again at any time!"

Folding his arms, he replied with mustered conviction. "No. She _can't_."

"Whatever."

"Look," he went on, rushing to defend himself. "It's such a long story. I can't explain it all tonight. Will you please just believe me, at least for now? River is not a part of my life anymore. And anyway I never-" Rose's eyes flicked back to his as he hesitated. They were warily curious, but otherwise inscrutable. "-I was never in love with her."

At that, her gaze dropped to her feet. Long blonde hair concealed her face like a curtain, but her body language said it all. She wasn't listening. Dragging a hand down his face, he battled the strong desire to go and fling himself down to the ground with a groan.

The two stood there in silence, neither of them quite able to hide the agitated state of their breathing. The Doctor forced himself to focus on his own breaths, slowing and deepening them until he felt calmer. He knew that Rose, stubborn as she was, wasn't trying to hurt him. She couldn't possibly know of the guilt he carried over his time with River. It wasn't as if he hadn't cared about her. But River had loved him openly and there was no denying that he'd used it to his advantage, used _her_, manipulated her and led her on. Someday he would be happy to confess to all of it, lay himself fully bare when the right time came. Not tonight. Dealing with the perilous state of his relationship with Rose was about all he could handle.

But even if he spilled his guts, would it really help? It seemed like no matter what he said he just couldn't win. Hadn't he proved that he needed her? Wanted her above all else? Yet she persisted in her unhappiness, which was the only emotion in the spectrum she was projecting that he could name with any certainty. Unhappiness and-

He studied her for a minute. Although Rose hadn't moved she was already calmer, her back straighter. _Resolve_. That's what it was. He'd seen resolve in her eyes, even when she'd cried, seen it in the corners of her smile; it was that steely, almost detached note in her voice. She was steadfast in her mission to find something, some way to prove that she had no place in his life. Even her whole issue with River- it was just another excuse.

It was almost as if she didn't want this.

The thought cut into his mind like a wicked blade, sharp and jabbing and impossible to ignore. The stage was set for their happily ever after, and in the countless times he'd imagined it out, her possibly rejecting him had never figured in. But now that it had presented itself to him as an option, the Doctor was hard pressed to guess at what else it could possibly be.

"Tell me the truth, Rose," he said, tongue darting out to wet his parched lips. "I don't want to go round in circles with you. I can't. Just...just tell me that you don't love me anymore. It's alright. I just need to hear it. Tell me, and I'll walk away and never bother you again."

Rose's wide eyes were pinned to him, her face drawn and white. As her lips parted, they both jumped a mile as a shattering crash echoed from inside the house, the half-open kitchen window doing nothing at all to muffle the sound.

Chin jutting, Rose glared in the direction of the window. "S'probably Mickey," she muttered, "spying on us. Wouldn't surprise me a bit. You hear me, Mickey Smith!" she yelled. "If you've been listening I'm so gonna kill you!"

Annoyed as she seemed, the Doctor could practically hear her relief at the well-timed interruption. But he wasn't about to be distracted. "Rose," he said, and waited for her reluctant attention. "Please. I need to know." His fingers itched to take hold of her hand, her elbow, but with the skimpy vest top she wore there was too much bare skin. He clenched his sweaty palms into fists.

Seconds stretched out, it was hours and days before she spoke. "Oh, Doctor. It's not that." Rose's voice was resigned, but more like _her _than he'd heard since the cafe. "If I didn't love you, this would be so easy. I'd be jumping at the chance to go with you again. But- that would be selfish, and I'm so _tired _of being selfish. I've done things, things have happened..." Rose rubbed her eyes. "And I know you don't understand. But now I'm asking _you_ to believe _me."_

He didn't want to. It wasn't in his nature to just let things go, especially such monumentally important things, but he was dizzy with the fact that Rose still loved him and anyway, he'd never had the power to deny her anything. Slowly, he nodded. "So where do we go from here?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, blinking back tears. "But I don't know if _we_ go anywhere."

He stared at her, mouth hanging open, and Rose gave him a tight, watery smile. "Goodbye, Doctor." And without another word, she turned and vanished into the house.

Every sound on earth was drowned out by the pounding of his hearts in his ears as the Doctor stood for what felt like ages in the dark garden, unmoving and alone. But she didn't come back, and eventually he managed to make his way over to one of the patio chairs. He felt empty, drained, so he slid low in the seat, dropping his head back against the top of the cushion to stare up at the black, starless sky.

He didn't flinch when he felt the air current shift, his eye catching the motion of someone dropping into the chair beside him.

"Want a beer?" came Mickey's voice, accompanied by a glassy _plink_.

Blinking, the Doctor slowly swiveled his head around to find a dewy bottle being held his way. He inspected it, brow furrowing.

"No? Although you've never been much of a drinker, have ya? Well, now'd be the time to start, I suppose. Lemme tell ya, I sure don't mind a beer or two after Mar and I have a row. Makes me feel loads better."

The Doctor gave him an incredulous look, picking up on his implication. "Rose and I didn't have a '_row'._"

"Sure sounded like it to me," remarked Mickey unconcernedly, gulping down a long swig of his drink. "Anyway, was gonna say, next time you come you need to park that box of yours somewhere back in the woods. I work for UNIT these days and if any of my mates were around they'd be able to recognize it right off. That's the last thing I want to try'n explain."

"Next time? But...Rose- didn't you hear? I don't think she wants me to come back."

He could tell Mickey was trying hard not to roll his eyes. "Like you're gonna listen."

Before the Doctor could process that, the other man shifted in his chair, a serious expression on his round face. "You know she's just being stubborn. Doesn't mean you give up. You gotta help her see how good you two are together."

Raking a hand through his hair, the Doctor took eager, desperate hold of this advice, like it was a parachute, him a man plunging toward imminent death. He turned it over in his head. Never, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that Mickey the Idiot would one day be so clever, but oh, was he grateful for it now. "So...I just try again? You think it's really that simple?"

"Yep," replied Mickey, with the air of the very experienced, rolling his beer bottle between his palms. "You just gotta think of a good enough excuse."

An excuse? A smile tugged at the Doctor's lips. He sank back down into the soft cushion, letting his mind shift into that familiar gear.

"-give it at least a few days, though," Mickey was saying, and he felt something hard and chill brush at the back of his hand. He peered down, this time gingerly taking hold of the offered beverage. Cool mist wafted appealingly from the top of the open bottle, and the Doctor lifted it to his lips, taking a careful sip which he immediately regretted. It was bitter and horrible and he grimaced, barely managing to swallow it down.

How Mickey could claim that such a vile concoction would make him feel better was beyond him, thought the Doctor, swirling the bottle and watching its amber contents fizz and foam. The man must be mad. He cut a glance to his old friend, who was contentedly sucking down the nasty stuff.

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. He hoped, with all his hearts, that Mickey's _other_ advice would prove to be far more reliable.

* * *

**I apologize to those of you who are supremely frustrated with Rose right now. Please remember she has reasons for her actions! And don't worry too much...the Doctor accomplished more than he thought. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**I know everyone is hoping for the Doctor to go rushing straight back to Rose, and he WILL, but unfortunately this story needed a bit of plot furtherance first. I hope you still enjoy. :) Beta-ed by the fantastic YouCleverBoys. **

* * *

Her much anticipated holiday concluded with a day that was empty and endless. Although Sunday's weather was warm and beautiful, Rose spent most of the day holed up in her bedroom, nursing a tension headache and trying to convince herself that she wasn't a terrible person.

This situation was just...so impossible. And the more Rose turned it over in her mind, the more furious she was at having gotten into it in the first place. How had she ever thought jaunting to London a good idea? In truth she should have stayed far away from Earth entirely, and chosen to settle on some distant, boring planet where there wasn't the slightest chance of him ever stepping foot.

Should've this, should've that- yet what did it matter? It was all too late now. The Doctor had not only discovered her, he outright wanted her, and had been so undaunted in his pursuit that in the end Rose had been forced to play a wicked card.

She had rejected him.

But what other choice did she have? He didn't understand the danger he was in, how he needed to be protected from whatever Bad Wolf might have planned for his future detriment. Worse, as their conversation progressed, Rose came to see that even if he _had_ known he wouldn't have cared.

Not all that surprising, really. The Doctor was nothing if not reckless.

Walking away had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done, rivaling the agony she'd felt on leaving the other universe. But it had been an act of love. And every time Rose recalled it -recalled his hopeful, pleading eyes- she felt it had been a rather heroic act as well.

The costs were great for them both, but at least he was safe.

It was worth it.

_Wasn't it?_

Buckled into the backseat of a UNIT Jeep, Rose rested her forehead against the window's cool glass and silently watched the streets whiz by. She had been eager to return to work today, thinking it would be an escape, but even the chaos of helping a panicked group of red Celsiods repair their downed ship had done little to clear her mind. It continued on its little roller coaster ride, whirling round and round that interaction with the Doctor, reliving every word, and though it was making her sick and dizzy it just wouldn't stop. At least not until she could properly justify her actions.

Thus far, all she ever came out with was a swooping bellyful of doubt.

Martha hadn't helped when she tiptoed down Sunday afternoon, bearing food, sympathy, and one probing question.

_"So how did he react when you told him about the whole Wolf thing?"_

_Rose picked at the bedspread and wouldn't meet her eyes._

_"You didn't tell him? Why?"_

_"I was going to; I tried. But then- I didn't think he'd understand."_

_"No...it was more that you didn't think he'd agree," Martha surmised, hitting the target with pinpoint accuracy. "Or that he might outright prove you wrong. And then how would you keep on pushing him away?"_

_"It's not like that."_

_"Isn't it? You know, Mickey went out there after you left. Said he'd never seen the Doctor look so lost. What happened to helping him understand why you two can't be together? Seems like you told him everything but the truth- that some selfish...goddess-you...once fated all of this to happen, and you're bound and determined to spite her!"_

Martha, kind Martha, had apologized immediately, but Rose really couldn't blame her for being so frustrated. It did sound rather stupid, stated like that. And it was her own fault Martha had drawn that conclusion, since she had shared only the manipulative side of the Wolf with her friend and hadn't spoken at all of her crimes. What might Martha have thought if she had confessed it all? If she saw more than just the selfishness, but also the heartless thief, the murderer-

Her stomach twisted as the Jeep came to a stop in UNIT's underground garage, and Rose jumped out gratefully. Footsteps echoing, she circled to the rear of the vehicle and half climbed in, tugging at an unwieldy, hard-plastic tactical case, and ignored Anita and Jim's lively chatter as they unloaded some of the other supplies. Rose waited for them to disappear into the building before she followed. Blowing a breath upward to get her hair out of her eyes, she clomped the heavy black case down on to the concrete and dug around for her keycard, hissing as she inadvertently bumped her bandaged right hand against the door. Her shoulders hunched and she cradled the throbbing extremity close to her chest.

"Hey!" A stern voice echoed through the cavernous garage. "Didn't I tell you to go straight to first aid, Prentice? Where in that did you hear 'help unload the Jeep' first?"

Rose swiveled around slowly to see Matt coming up behind her, another black case in his hand and a coil of rope slung over one shoulder. He didn't look very happy.

"S'just one of the stunners," she replied, gesturing to the case on the ground. "No one else could take it since I'm the one who checked it out this morning."

"You could have done it later. Ever heard of priorities? Or how about obeying your superior?"

"It's just a burn. Not a big deal," countered Rose, though she knew he could tell she was hurting. The topical and oral medication she'd been given awhile ago were wearing off, and the hot, swollen soreness of her palm and fingers were starting to make it hard to think about much else.

Which was sort of nice, in a way.

Matt rubbed an eye, looking frustrated. "It might be a second-degree burn, which is no where near as minor as you're trying to make it sound. Has anyone ever told you you're impossibly stubborn?"

She gave him a mock-offended look, earning herself a tiny, reluctant smile. "What I really don't get is how it even happened," he went on. "Where was your head today?"

Rose shrugged, scratching at the bandage. "Dunno."

"Seriously Rose, it's like you're amazing and ridiculous all rolled into one. How does the woman who walks onto that crash site and in less than two minutes correctly identifies those...Celi...what was it again?"

"Celsiods."

"Right, okay. You identify these little red creatures by name, which is spooky enough, but then as they're baring their teeth and hissing, you turn around and start yelling at us," Matt's eyes had that gleam again, and Rose could tell he was beginning to enjoy himself. "Your own team!" Pitching his voice higher, he started mimicking her again. "Leave 'em alone, they're scared! Their skin gets hot, like really hot, when they're stressed, so Matt, stay back or you'll get your face scalded off-"

"Oi, that's not what I said!"

Grinning, he dropped his case to the ground with a clunk. "Close enough. Anyway, how does that very same woman end up getting her own hand burned, assisting one of them onto their ship in a totally unnecessary gesture of helpfulness?"

Rose sighed. "I...was distracted."

"No kidding," he agreed, all seriousness again. "It was really unlike you. Care to share what's been on your mind?"

Mouth open, Rose blinked at him, then looked down at her hand. "You know, this is really starting to hurt," she said with a grimace, turning to slide her keycard into the slot. She had the door open the second the light turned green, and gave him a quick wave. "Gonna run down to first aid, just like you said."

* * *

When Rose emerged nearly an hour later, hand slightly numb and freshly wrapped, her head buzzing rather pleasantly from painkillers, she found Matt waiting for her. Before she could stutter out a single word, he thrust an iced coffee her way.

"It's a, uh, a get-well gift," he explained, his expression apologetic. "Sorry you got hurt."

Rose reached for the plastic cup with an eager grin, instantly noticing the whipped cream on top. "Mmm, thanks," she said, after a long sip from the straw. "But don't you think I deserve writing up?"

"Nah, we all have an off day sometimes," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, the whole thing probably wouldn't have gone as well as it did if you hadn't been there."

"You're too nice to me."

Matt ran a hand through his thatch of wavy dark hair. "So...has someone not been nice to you lately?"

"Matt-"

He lifted his hands. "Sorry; I don't mean to push. I guess I'm just worried. But...well, if you won't talk to me, please tell me you'll talk to Mickey or Martha about it, okay?"

Rose stared down at her coffee, and took another long draw from it before answering. "I tried. But they're sort of part of the problem. They...don't understand, so they keep tryin' to get me to do something I don't think is right. Micks is especially bad; keeps sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong."

Matt nodded. "I've noticed that he's pretty protective of you."

"Yeah, and I get it, but it's annoying sometimes. I'm a big girl."

He tapped a finger against his chin. "You know, I think I know just what you need. Cures all ills."

"Ooh, is it buckets of tequila?"

"Ha ha," he said, rolling his eyes. "How about something slightly less potent? Like pizza and beer."

Tilting her head, Rose wrinkled her nose at him doubtfully.

Matt wrinkled his nose back. "It's not a date, I swear. Just a friend looking out for a friend. Besides, I don't even like blondes."

Rose laughed as she took him in, all hopeful expression and innocent puppy-dog eyes. She knew she shouldn't take him at his "just friends" word, but his offer was so tempting. She was already dreading going home, back to her too-quiet bedroom- or worse, to conversations that she did not want to have. And it would be nice to spend some time with someone who wasn't disappointed in her. "Alright," she agreed slowly, and a grin brightened his whole face. "I can do that."

"Do what?" came an over-loud voice from behind her, and Rose suppressed a groan. Mickey's grinning face appeared next to her, though he immediately stiffened when he caught sight of her wrapped-up hand. "What happened to you?"

"Minor burn," she said shortly. "Was an accident."

"How-"

"I'm fine, Micks, and I don't wanna talk about it right now, okay? Matt and I were just headin' out."

Mickey shot her a look, eyes narrowing, and Rose felt a pang of satisfaction at having irritated him. Then he turned to Matt. "Will ya excuse us a minute?"

He took Rose by the arm and guided her just around the corner. "You're not gonna use my friend as a rebound," he declared, getting right to it.

She glared at him, crossing her arms with extra care. "I'm not. We're just getting pizza. As friends. You should mind your own business, Mickey Smith. If that's even possible."

"I'm just trying to look out for you. Somebody's got to, since sometimes I think you're bloody determined to self-destruct-"

Rose whipped around. "I don't have to listen to this," she snapped. "I'll see ya later."

Matt raised his eyebrows as she marched around the corner, practically breathing fire. "You okay?"

"Yep," she said, popping the p. "Let's go."

* * *

"Dino's" was a quaint little pizza parlour, all brick walls and low lighting, serving the authentic New York slice. They'd been there less than an hour but Rose was already on her second mug of beer, and that in combo with the painkillers she'd been given earlier had managed to quiet the obnoxious shouting in her head to a tolerable murmur.

Matt hadn't pushed her to talk and for that Rose was grateful. He was really the perfect sort of friend to have around on a night like this; most of what had come out of his mouth since they'd arrived had been jokes and nonsense. Rose sensed that he was trying to get her to relax.

He was currently poking fun at a couple seated near them, who were a bit overdressed for such a casual place. They were giving far more attention to their mobiles than they did to each other.

"Leave 'em alone, they're probably just colleagues," Rose insisted.

"Oh no, no way. I vote married, one hundred percent."

She giggled. "Blimey, I hope not. That's just sad. Why would a couple go out to dinner together and then not even talk?"

"Oh, lots of reasons," he replied, tugging at his shirt collar. "If you want to know, they kind of remind me of my parents."

"So they were the stiff, stern types then?" asked Rose, trying to imagine it. "How'd they deal with having a kid like you?"

Matt made a face. "Well..."

"C'mon, Barclay," coaxed Rose, smacking the table with her good hand. "Out with it."

"Oh, I would, I totally would, if it were what you think. You're waiting for all these great stories about my amazing and hilarious escapades." He leaned over the table and cupped his hand beside his mouth, as if he were about to impart some great secret. "But I...was a nerd."

Rose burst out laughing. "You? No way."

"It's true," he said, with a dramatic sigh. "I spent entire summers in my bedroom, happy with my stacks of books. My dad wasn't too thrilled about that, actually. When I was in high school he was always after me to join the football team, but I never had the slightest interest. So you can imagine how shocked he was when I signed up with the military. I think it was probably one of his proudest moments."

"And of course he has no idea that you were recruited to work for-" Rose lowered her voice "-a _special_ division."

"Right. And of course, that 'special division' cared next to nothing about my physical prowess," he replied, chuckling as he showed her his nicely-toned biceps. "I honestly think they recruited me because I was so into charity work in college. Probably thought if I cared that much about less-fortunate humans I'd care about less-fortunate aliens too."

Rose smiled at him, dropping her chin on her hand. "Too bad more people aren't like you."

After a quick smile back, Matt's eyes cut away uncomfortably. Rose changed the subject. "So who were your favorite authors?"

"Oh wow, I don't know. I was always into the classics. Guess I'd have to say Dickens would be at the top of my list."

"Really?" said Rose, delighted. "Mine too! I've read all his books and he's just the nicest bloke-" She cut herself off too abruptly and Matt gave her a strange look. "Sorry. I make it sound like I met him or something," she finished lamely.

"How should I know?" said Matt, smirking as he slumped back in his chair. "Maybe that's your big secret."

"What?"

"Yep. That you're the oldest woman on Earth. Grew up with Dickens."

"Shut up," said Rose, throwing a piece of pizza crust at him.

"Hey now, no need to get violent. Can you blame a guy for wanting to figure out just a little more about you?"

Lips pursed, Rose considered him for a minute. "Okay."

He raised his eyebrows eagerly.

"You want to know why I was so out of it today? S'because I, um, I ran into my...ex-boyfriend this weekend."

"Ah," replied Matt, understanding crossing his face. "And I'm guessing it was awkward."

"Painfully. You don't know the half."

"And part of your problem is that Mickey and Martha want you to get back together with this guy?" he asked, putting pieces together.

"Oh, more or less."

"But that makes no sense. I mean, you had to have known him before you were married. Years ago. What makes him so special that he can just drop back into your life like that, and think you can just pick up where you left off?"

"It's a long story," was all she could think to say. How she wished it were as simple as Matt made it sound. For a moment, Rose pictured herself telling him the truth- _you see, Matt, technically my ex-boyfriend was my husband, because at first he was just one bloke, but then there was this accident and he split himself into two people so I was forced to choose between them and did I mention he's an alien?_ She quickly grabbed her drink and buried a smile in it. He'd probably make her go back to first aid to check her for a head injury.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his and they smiled at each other as she set her glass on the table. Matt was a great person; interesting, funny, intelligent. Kind. How much simpler life would be if she could only let someone like him into her heart.

But there was no chance.

Rose looked around for the waiter, raising a hand for her cheque. "Should probably get home before the meds wear off," she explained to her friend with a smile, and he nodded, looking more than a bit disappointed.

Time to get home, indeed, thought Rose, worried that maybe she had given him hope tonight.

Trust her to set her standards so high that there was literally no man on Earth who could measure up.

* * *

The Doctor came to a full stop as his eyes riveted to a glittering display on the market stall's wide table. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, and even hair clips gleamed and shimmered under the bright alien sun. They were made from array of different metals but all were set with the same sort of clear, pinkish stone- Rividian crystal, known galaxy wide for its empathic enhancement capabilities. It made for a beautiful, yet highly useful sort of gift, usually given to a prospective mate by those wishing to prove the sincerity of their affections.

"Would you let a bloke buy you jewelry if you had no romantic interest in him?" he wondered aloud. A heart-shaped stone on a simple gold chain captured his interest and he reached a hand out to weigh it in his palm. He stroked his thumb over its curved smoothness. Such a trinket wouldn't solve all of his problems with Rose, but maybe it could help, if it allowed her to _feel_ the depth of his adoration-

"What in blazes are you on about?"

A throb of hopeful bemusement accompanied the question, belying the exasperation in her voice, and it startled him into dropping the necklace. After watching it swing back gently on its peg, the Doctor turned to find Clara studying him, brows drawn. "It's a human custom," he explained, giving the display a lingering glance before offering Clara his elbow and moving them back out into the bustling crowds. "You know, human males? Aren't they always giving jewelry to their wives and girlfriends? I just assumed you'd have heard of it, but perhaps you haven't, since-"

He heard her huff. "Shut it, Doctor."

"Oi," he replied, hiding a grin. "Now that's just rude, Clara Oswald. Here I am, nice as can be, sporting you around one of the largest shopping bazaars in the universe, and this is how you treat me? It wasn't exactly a difficult question. I was hardly asking you to tell me the average weight of a grown male Rividian, or the eighty-fifth digit of pi, although I admit that last one is not at all difficult and anyway I wouldn't ask since I already know the answer, it's eight, but point is I only wanted your opinion-"

He felt a sharp tug on his elbow as she pulled him into a clear spot beside a food vendor. "You're being weird again," she informed him, crossing her arms.

"You always say that."

"Well, this time I properly mean it. Since when do you care about romantic Earth customs?"

Now it was his turn to huff. "I travel time and space, a person can hardly get by with that without knowledge of all sorts of customs."

"You know," said Clara, grinding her heel into the dirt, "it's hardly fair for you to whinge about my not replying to your question when you still haven't answered the one I asked you over an hour ago. Namely, why are we here today, when I've been saying for weeks that where I really want to go shopping is in New York?"

He let his gaze drift off to a point past her shoulder. "I should think that'd be obvious; the shopping here is loads better. I mean, do you think they're selling things like-" his gaze darted about, settling on a sign across the way- "wormhole refractors on Fifth Avenue?"

Clara sighed, tipping her face to the sky as if she were begging some deity to give her strength. "Fine." She looked him squarely in the eye. "No. I wouldn't."

"That's right, because it'll be a good five-hundred years before humans on Earth will even think of trying to achieve inter-galactic travel-"

"Not the wormhole-whatever-they-are, I'm answering your question. The answer is no, I wouldn't let a bloke buy me jewelry if I wasn't interested him."

The Doctor considered her, stroking at his chin. "No? What if he was your friend?"

"Ehm..." Clara inhaled, gaze dropping to her boots. "I don't know. In a way, I think that'd be worse." She bit at her nail. "It would be leading him on."

"Oh." He couldn't keep the disappointment from his tone. There went that idea. There was no way that Rose, at this point, would do anything that even half looked like she was encouraging him.

"Because," Clara suddenly continued, "a bloke wouldn't want to give a girl a necklace like that without meaning something by it, yeah?"

He looked at his companion sharply. Her cheeks were oddly red. Why..._oh_. Oh no. The Doctor turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, and resisted the urge to face-palm. Of course Clara was quick enough to realize that his question wasn't idle. She knew he was the hypothetical bloke, and why wouldn't she assume that she was the girl? As far as she knew, he had few other friends. Time to backtrack backtrack backtrack. Clasping his hands, he let his body settle into lecture-mode. "Oh, I suppose," he said, aiming for a lofty tone. "You humans. All your little customs. Especially when it comes to...wooing one another. It's like you can't accomplish it at all without your dates and your flowers and, and your rings, celebrating anniversaries for every little milestone."

"So you think it's so silly, is that what you're saying?" replied Clara slowly, narrowing her eyes on him. "Well then, Doctor, enlighten me. How, exactly, did your people go about 'wooing' one another?"

His mouth fell open a bit. "How did my people...what?"

"Woo-ing," she repeated, clearly, an indecipherable glint in her eye. "You know. Boy meets girl, the birds and the bees, the miracle of life. I mean c'mon, they had to work it out somehow. So tell me, Doctor...where did cute little Time babies come from?"

"_Time_ babies?" he echoed indignantly, scowling at her. "That's not what they were called."

Clara merely raised her eyebrows, challenging him. "All right," he gave in, trying to work out how much he ought to reveal. "Things were...different, on Gallifrey. At least for those of us who were Time Lords," he added, gesturing, and they started walking again, arm in arm. "Strong emotions were frowned upon in any context, so falling in love was nearly unheard of. Marriages were arranged, mostly for political alliances. And...usually, our progeny were given life in what was more or less a laboratory. Looming, they called it."

They walked on in silence, weaving slowly through the crowds. "No wonder you left," Clara commented quietly, after a bit. "Sounds awfully dull."

"Oh, it was."

Clara was quiet for a few minutes as they strolled on, showing no interest in stopping to look at the merchandise at any of the booths that they passed. The Doctor was fine to let her think, hoping that his revelation was putting an end to any ideas she'd had about _them_. "You said," she spoke suddenly, "'at least for those who were Time Lords'. You've mentioned before that it's a rank, more than anything. So...what about the other people? Was it the same for the," she paused, searching for a word, "the commoners?"

"Gallifreyans."

She nodded. "Did they ever marry for love? Live regular lives, have houses and babies and all of that?"

He took a deep breath, wanting to lie and have it over with. But he didn't. "I suppose."

"So it was only cultural differences, then? Being that Time Lords were also Gallifreyan."

The Doctor side-eyed her as he considered how to answer. Clara seemed determined to pin him down, but he needed her to understand that while they were friends, there could never be anything more between them. The easiest option would be to say 'no, he'd never wanted any of that', play the whole otherworldly, ancient alien card, and that would be that.

But- Rose. Rose was back in his world, and if he had anything to say about it, at some point she would be back in his life. He couldn't hide her existence from Clara forever. So perhaps he'd best not miss his chance to...sort of begin to ease her into it.

"You're right, Time Lords weren't able to rid themselves of such feelings, much as they might have tried to. So to answer your real question, Clara Oswald-" he felt her stiffen- "I've never done the whole human-y, court your girl, buy her jewelry sort of thing. But...well, I know how it feels to want to. I've...I've been in love."

Her nervousness was palpable. "Someone from your planet?" she asked. He didn't need empathic crystals to know that she was hoping the answer was _yes_.

"She was human. _Is_ human. I traveled with her. A very long time ago."

Clara stopped in front of a stall selling rich fabrics and released his arm, fingering the fringe of a bright yellow silk. "What happened to her?"

The Doctor took a breath, suddenly overcome with images of beaches and white, unyielding walls, a determined girl with a big yellow button hung round her neck, suddenly flashing back into existence-

Head popping up, he took hold of Clara's shoulders and turned her to face him, looking at her in wonder. "You are brilliant, Clara Oswald! I knew I should have asked for your help long ago!"

"Wha- my help? Help with what?"

He was already dragging her across the street and in between booths, taking the shortest route back toward the TARDIS. "With the rift, of course."

"What rift? I don't..." She stumbled a bit. "I don't even know what a rift _is_!"

"It's a tear in reality. And this one is a wound that won't heal. But you've just given me an idea for the cure- heigh ho, there she is!"

Bounding through the ship's doors with a snap of his fingers, the Doctor was already halfway through the dematerialization sequence before Clara plopped down on the jumpseat across from him. "You drive me mad sometimes, you know," she told him wearily. "And since you technically didn't give me a chance to buy a thing in that marketplace you still owe me a shopping trip. Don't think I'll forget."

"Alright," he agreed easily, too giddy to think of making a fuss. "Next trip, as soon as I get this breach sorted."

With its usual shudder, the TARDIS touched down. The Doctor dashed for the door, throwing it open. "Here we are, then!"

Clara frowned as she looked outside. "This thing is in my front garden?"

"What? No, of course not. It's miles from here. I'll tell you more about it when I come back."

"We won't work on it together?"

She was still standing just inside the TARDIS and the Doctor shooed her through the open doorway. "No, no, not this time. Far too dangerous."

"Since when is _anything_-"

He slammed the door on the rest of her statement and ran back to the console, firing things up again as he checked his hair in one of the small mirrors. It was a bit unruly, so he smoothed it back into an impeccable swoop. Perfect.

"I think Rose still likes my hair," he remarked to the time-ship as they dematerialized, stealing one last quick look at the monitor as Clara's neighborhood faded away.

But his mind was already so fully focused on what lay ahead that, unfortunately, he didn't really _see_ anything. Including a familiar, beat-up, rusty old van parked across the street from Clara's house.

Though the men in the van most definitely noticed _him._

* * *

**I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has stuck with me on this angsty ride! Up next: More Doctor and Rose interaction. And dare I say it? FLUFF. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the extra long wait on this one; summer is crazy with kids out of school. Rose's trainers in this chapter were inspired by DoctorWhoHehe, (theartofdoctorwho on Tumblr) who created the beautiful cover art for this story. Go check out her amazing fanart!**

* * *

As the Doctor crossed the small wooded plot behind the Smith's home, an odd mix of trepidation and eagerness set into his stomach, making it a jangling ball of nerves.

Small twigs and dry autumn leaves crunched under his boots. Happy as he was for a reason to be back here, he had no clue how Rose might feel about it. Would she be upset? Angry? Would she run away again? Or (did he dare hope?) might she have come to regret her own actions last weekend, and maybe, just maybe, be at least somewhat grateful for this second chance?

_She loves me_, he told himself on an endless refrain, clinging to that one fact as if it were his lifeline. No matter how she reacted to his reappearance today, even if it was with fury or indifference or something equally disheartening, he still had no cause to give up. All he needed was for her to agree to give him some of her time, which would be the key. Time to reconnect, to get her to open up. And then he would finally get to the bottom of this mystery- why Rose had been so firmly set on pushing him away.

Exiting the shady woods into the back garden, he shielded his eyes against the sunlight, looking to his right and left. Small victory- there was Mickey, kneeling not too far from him, beside a small brick fire-pit set near the edge of the tree line. At the sound of the Doctor's approach, his friend glanced back over his shoulder, then did a double take.

"Bout time you showed up." Attention already back on his project, Mickey painstakingly adjusted the brick he'd just placed on the fire-pit's unfinished top edge.

"You're the one who said I should wait a few days."

Creakily, Mickey got to his feet, wiping his hands on his grimy jeans before dragging one through the sweat on his forehead. "That's before I knew Rose was gonna be in a snit all week."

Some of his cautious optimism faded. "Because of me?"

Mickey shrugged. "Dunno. I'm beyond tryin' to guess at what's going on in that girl's head."

"Is she here?"

"Think so, not that I've seen her today." Tugging down the back hem of his black vest top, he lowered himself onto one of the rustic log benches that were ringing the fire-pit. The Doctor frowned, watching him.

"Aren't you going to run in and let her know I'm here? You know, ease her into it?"

"Nuh uh, nope, no way." Mickey shook his head. Leaning back, he shoved a hand in his pocket, fishing out his mobile. "I got too involved in this thing with you two last weekend, and believe me, I paid for it." With one fingertip, he typed out a message on the touchscreen, sent it, and then balanced the phone on his knee. "Mar should be out here in a minute. We'll let her know what's up, and then she can go talk to Rose."

The Doctor considered the mobile, and then Mickey. "You just sent your wife- your wife who is in your house, just over there- a text message to...summon her?"

Mickey's eyes tracked the wide expanse of grass between them and the house. "S'long walk." He gave the Doctor a quick once over. "You've changed, ya know."

"Well," said the Doctor, fingering the edge of his purple coat sleeve and thinking that maybe there was still a smidge of the old Idiot left in this man, "that does tend to happen when one regenerates-"

"No, no, not the face. Not that seein' you like this isn't weird. I just mean, would the old you have done this? Kept coming back after her?" He shook his head, not waiting for an answer. "There's no way. You were like the universe's biggest martyr."

The Doctor snorted. "Yes, well, that was before. Before I knew how unpleasantly regret sits in a heart."

Mickey gave him a long look, then grabbed his mobile from his knee and pushed a button. "Huh. Nothin' from Martha yet."

"Imagine that."

Ignoring him, Mickey put the phone to his ear. "Babe," he said, after what must have been a few rings, "I-" The Doctor couldn't quite make out what Martha was saying on the other end, but her tone was less than pleased. "...sorry; I forgot what time it was. He didn't wake up though? I can come in if you want..." He listened again. "The Doctor is here. D'ya mind breaking the news?" Cocking his head, brow furrowed, Mickey took the phone from his ear. "She wants to know what the heck she's supposed to say. Is it that you need Rose's help or some crap like that?"

"Yes," replied the Doctor, wondering how he had guessed it so easily. That had taken him _days_ to come up with.

Mickey rung off. "C'mon, then. Let's go inside. Mar says she's gonna smoke her out."

Silence fell between them as the Doctor followed his friend into the house, pacing awkwardly in the space between kitchen and lounge while Mickey first washed his hands, then dug around in the fridge, finally settling at the bar with a bottle of beer in his hands.

"You could sit," said Mickey, nodding to another barstool.

The Doctor shook his head, too anxious to be still. He wandered through the lounge. It was a nice house, he noted dimly, open and spacious with high ceilings, sort of like the flat Rose had lived in back in the other universe. Was that why she was living here, instead of in her TARDIS? Had she gotten tired of traveling, preferring Earth to any-

He started as the door to the lower level suddenly swung open and Martha emerged.

"She was sleeping," she explained, closing the door.

The Doctor lifted his watch and peered at it. One-fifteen. "Is she alright?"

"It's been a rough week. She was injured at work on Monday-"

His pulse quickened. "Injured?"

"Nothing major; just a burned hand. But she insisted on being at work everyday afterward, even though she's been taken off field duty until it's healed. I think she's just worn out."

"Oh." He looked down, tapped the toe of his boot against the polished wood floor. "Should I...is this a bad time?"

"No, she's coming. She just needed a minute to get cleaned up a bit."

His gaze flicked up to find Martha studying him intently. "What?" he asked, self-consciously running his fingers over his chin and cheek.

"Nothing," she reassured, after a beat. "Just...still trying to get used to you, I suppose." Martha gave him a bright smile. "Must say, you _do_ look much better than you did the last time I saw you."

He sniffed, squaring his shoulders, and smugly adjusted his bow-tie. "Of course I do. Don't know what you ever saw in that last me; he was far too skinny, and I mean really, properly-"

"Not your last body," interrupted Martha, breaking out in a laugh. "I mean the other night, when you had the whole drowned rat look going on. But now I see how this really works. Your face and fashion sense may change, but the vanity is everlasting."

Jaw dropping, he tried hard to be insulted but as she grinned up at him, her pretty face full of warm affection, he chuckled instead.

There was movement at the corner of his eye and the Doctor looked away from Martha, his hearts skipping as he saw Rose slip into the room.

"Hi," she greeted him shyly, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. Rose was fully dressed in a soft white jumper and snug jeans, hair tied back neatly, but her eyes were bleary and tired, cheeks rosy from sleep. She looked warm and cuddly and oh so adorable, and it wasn't until he saw her lips twitch into a tiny smile that he realized he had been staring.

"Hello." He felt a bit shy himself. "I...I suppose I'm the last person you expected to see today."

"Yeah, sort of." Rose twisted a loose stand of hair between thumb and forefinger, that little smile still on her lips. "Though I don't know why I'm so surprised. You've never been that good at taking a hint."

"I know," he replied, teasing back, a pleased, silly grin wandering onto his face. Rose was going to be _normal_ today, she was _bantering_, she was...oh. She was biting at her bottom lip, in that pensive way of hers. Looking as if she'd just crossed a line.

Or -more likely- he had crossed one. "Erm," he said, pulling his chin and backpedaling. "I mean, I'm sorry."

Martha elbowed him. "Just tell her why you're here, Doctor."

His mouth opened as he met Rose's dark eyes, even as all thoughts of breaches and tech fled his brain, replaced with one word in Clara's voice.

_"Wooing."_

_"Tell me, Doctor, how did your people go about wooing one another?"_

Apparently, they stood about uncomfortably in their old friends' lounges, making up excuses to spend time with their beloved.

Excuses.

Right.

He carded a hand through his hair, gathering his scattered thoughts. "I need your help with a bit of tech I'm trying to develop." Rose's forehead creased, already doubting him, and he hastened to clarify. "A dimension cannon."

Her brow lines deepened. "O-kay," she muttered, still doubtful. "This oughta be good."

Abruptly, Rose pushed past and the Doctor stared after her, watching her settle into the corner of one of the red leather sofas. She looked back at him, expectant. He sent a helpless glance to Martha and Mickey, who both made shooing motions with their hands.

"You two can stay as well," came Rose's voice.

The Doctor was glad when they did so, situating themselves to Rose's right, while he removed a few stray toys from a slightly worn cushion on the sofa opposite. He sat down.

"Alright, Doctor, let's hear it. Why would you possibly need a dimension cannon?" Tucking a stray lock behind an ear with her uninjured hand, Rose waited for his answer- and those eyes of hers, the Doctor was sure, saw far more than his eyes and face. They penetrated directly to the core of his soul.

He was suddenly very, very glad that he was not about to try to lie to her.

"There's a breach," he began, rubbing his palms on the knees of his trousers. "Right on Earth's surface; the middle of a London neighborhood, lots of families about. I've been at it for months now but so far, I can't get the blasted thing to seal itself off. UNIT's got soldiers on guard day and night, but it's just a matter of time before something goes wrong. Before more people get hurt or worse." The Doctor leaned forward, elbows planted on knees. "All along, I've known of one probable way to fix it. And the dimension cannon is the exact tech I need to be able to pull it off."

Gaze dropping, Rose picked at the semi-ratty white bandage encasing her hand, drawing his eyes to it for the umpteenth time. He was longing to prod for every detail about that burn of hers; it was driving him mad. But this wasn't the time for personal questions.

Those would come later, once she'd agreed to work with him.

"And I suppose you can't build it without my help?" Rose kept her gaze on her hands.

"Not a chance."

She puffed out air through her nose, smiling a little, and shaking her head as she met his eyes. "I dunno, Doctor. Seems a bit far-fetched, even for you."

"Oh, it is," he agreed, tensely tugging at the fabric of his trousers. "But once we make a quick jaunt over you'll see-"

"I'm not travelin' with you," she cut in, "not even a quick jaunt. I believe you, and I'll help you build what you need, but that's it. Alright?"

He wasn't sure why this statement had him feeling so gutted; she had just all but promised him hours of her time and wasn't that what he wanted? Twisting at a button on his shirt cuff, he slowly nodded. "Alright."

* * *

The air was much cooler than it had been the previous weekend, and windier, befitting the late September date. Irregular gusts of it drifted deliciously through the TARDIS, her doors thrown wide open to the sights and sounds of the woods just outside, and as the Doctor returned to the console room, arms full of bits and bobs, he noticed it made for a very pleasant atmosphere.

Spending time with her here would be just fine, he thought, dumping his armload onto a jumpseat. Better than. It may not be as private as the vortex, but at least they wouldn't be stuck in the house. He and Rose, at opposite ends of the Smith's kitchen table, had already worked for the better part of two hours- him with paper and pen, offering this suggestion and that, to try and help Rose jog her memory of some of the mechanical parts and complex processes that went into a piece of tech she'd helped design years ago.

After her outright refusal to travel with him, he'd expected things to be strained between them, Rose all business. But, she seemed to be making an effort. It wasn't exactly easy- he was careful of every word he said not related to the cannon and Rose spent twice the amount of time gazing at her own hands than she did at his face- but he'd made her laugh once or twice. And she didn't seem to be in a hurry to be rid of him.

Mid-afternoon had rolled around and Rose was ready for a break, declaring that she would think better once she'd had a cuppa. Figuring she wouldn't be opposed to a few minutes to herself, the Doctor had retreated to the TARDIS, scavenging for whatever components he might already have on hand.

He was locking in place the legs of a portable work-table when he heard soft footsteps cross the threshold. Peering up, he found Rose just inside the doorway, a dark silhouette with the light at her back. In one hand she held a steaming mug.

Powerful longing began in his chest, blooming to spread through all his limbs, bringing on a sudden case of paralysis. Why hadn't he mentally prepared himself for this? Last time it happened- Rose Tyler, with the Doctor, on his TARDIS -_as it should be_\- it had gotten to him more than anything else, driving him to push for things he downright knew couldn't happen.

"You've changed the TARDIS again." Rose came forward a step or two, eyes scanning over all the silver and blue.

"Yes, fairly recently," he replied, regaining his composure and straightening up from the table. "What do you think?"

She hesitated. "Well, I like it, s'just...not as cheerful as before, when it had all the glass. There a reason for that?"

He drew a breath, eyes zeroing in on the cup she held cradled against her chest. "That for me?"

She glanced down at it and then back to him, smiling as she approached. "Yeah. I, um, put in the amount of sugar that you used to like. Hope it's not too sweet."

Taking the mug, he carefully sipped from it, and managed to thank her without making a face. Probably wasn't the best time to inform her that he currently took even more sugar in his tea than the already godawful amount that he used to do.

Rose gestured to the piled-up jumpseat, padding over to it. "Looks like you got a start on what we need. But wouldn't it be easier to just work on it in one of your labs?"

He scoffed. "Who cares about easier? In here we can leave the doors open. Never get to do that. And it's a beautiful day outside."

"The TARDIS doesn't like holding those doors like that for too long. It's a lot of work for her, maintaining both dimensions." Casually, Rose took a couple of small switches from the cushion, and as she placed them on the table, he caught her smirk.

"Rose Tyler. I suppose you know everything there is to know about a TARDIS, eh?"

"Yep," she replied with confidence, sounding like an echo of his prior self. Perhaps she was trying to remind him of how much things had changed, how _she'd_ changed, in the years they'd been apart. However, if that was meant to put him off, well...it would be accurate to say that the effect was contrary.

Next she picked up an image translator. It was heavier than it appeared and Rose fumbled it a bit, having only one good hand.

The Doctor, who had been biding his time, now found exactly the opening he needed. "Right," he said, clapping his hands together. "This won't do at all."

Confused, Rose looked over at him. "What?"

"This," he repeated, miming his right hand limp and useless like hers. "Those are delicate components, and you're mucking about over there like a one-limbed Unopod." Turning on his heel, he strode up the stairs, heading for the main corridor. "C'mon. To the infirmary with you."

Behind him, she made a noise like an objection.

"Oi," he said, turning to her with raised eyebrows.

Rose licked her lips. "No nanogenes," she argued, folding her arms. "You do too perfect of a job and UNIT will know exactly who I spent my weekend with."

He was going to get the entire weekend? "Okay," he conceded, hardly able to conceal his glee. "One semi-healed hand, coming right up."

The infirmary was conveniently close by, one of the first doors in the corridor. After climbing onto the high exam bed, Rose sat, swinging her feet while the Doctor buzzed from cabinet to cabinet, gathering what he needed.

"Looks like aloe," she commented, nodding to a small vial in his hand. It was half full of a translucent green goo.

"It is. Well, basically. This is actually from Florinia," he explained. "From a plant that grows on their beaches. It's much like Aloe Vera, but about a thousand times stronger."

"Makes the best burn lotion I've ever seen?"

"More like a salve, but yes."

After washing his hands, he went to the stainless bench-top and mixed up the various ingredients into a smooth, slightly greasy gel, Rose quietly observing from the bed at his back. Once he was satisfied he dipped a finger in, confirming he had the proper chemical makeup with the tip of his tongue.

He heard a snicker and turned to find Rose grinning at him. "Sorry," she said. "I know, I've seen you do that a million times. But it will never not be funny."

Shaking his head in mock vexation, he took a pair of latex gloves from a box on its shelf by the bed and snapped them on. "Only need to _look_ to analyze this burn of yours, I'm afraid," the Doctor informed her, as she offered the bandaged extremity for him to unwrap it. "So sorry to disappoint you."

Rose suppressed a giggle as he plucked out an end of the gauze. Cutting her a sharp, brief glance, his eyes went wide as he realized just how that had sounded. He cleared his throat, both of them going quiet as he slowly unbound her hand, loop after loop, eyes carefully on his work.

"Blimey, Rose," he breathed, sliding on Amy's old glasses and getting his first look at that injury. Her entire palm and all five fingers were coloured a dark, raw pink, tight blisters swelling all over the delicate skin. "How did this happen?"

"A Celsiod said 'run', so I did what came naturally."

He frowned, turning her hand this way and that to inspect it further, jaw clenching. "Celsiods don't have a spoken language."

"It was a joke."

Wordlessly, he released her and turned back to his concoction, in its bowl on the counter a few steps away. He began stirring it again, unnecessarily, just to give himself a minute to breathe.

This tentative ease with one another was thin ice, he knew, and he was determined not shatter it with some foolhardy step. Yet the infirmary was quite small (_was _it smaller than usual?) and simply being alone with her in here was already affecting him. To top it off, seeing that injury of hers, more severe than what he'd imagined, had thrown into the mix in a fierce dash of protectiveness, catching him entirely off-guard. And all at once he did not trust himself, his hands, or any words that might come out of his mouth.

He needed a major distraction. This ointment would have to do; at least it could now use condensing into a more potent formula. Dropping the glass pestle with a clink onto the bench-top, he scraped the mixture into a low-form beaker and then set it on the burner.

"Now what are you doing to that stuff?" came Rose's voice at his back. He could hear her kicking her shoes' rubber heels, _tink, tink,_ against the metal bed-frame- cream-coloured hightop Chucks they were. He had no idea how to feel about that. The Doctor ignited the gas with his sonic.

"Well, you said no nanogenes, but without them it's going to take a miracle to fix up that hand of yours." Facing her again, he rubbed his hands together, like a plotting mad scientist. "And for miracles, Rose, we need holy salve."

_"Holy_ salve?"

"Yes," he replied, pursing his lips to fight a smile as he swiveled back to check his heating concoction. Slow bubbles were already forming in the thick gel, beginning to rise and pop. "I'm going to boil the hell out of it."

There was silence for a moment and then she laughed out loud. "Oh my god, that was terrible."

Chuckling, he vigorously stirred the salve so it wouldn't scorch. "Probably. You laughed though, so that means your taste in jokes is just as bad as it ever was." Rose hummed, agreeing. The Doctor grabbed a pair of tongs from a drawer and then lifted the beaker from the heat, pouring the cooling mixture into a ceramic bowl. Their shared laughter had him relaxing a tad, having discharged some of the electricity in the room. He took a deep breath. Time to deal with the next phase of this treatment.

After testing the temperature of the mixture against the bare skin of his wrist (he thought it best not to use his tongue again), he swung back to face her, setting the bowl on the mattress.

"Hand." Rose obediently placed it, palm up, into his curved gloved fingers. Latex barrier or no, the warm weight of it had his throat tightening. How long had it been since her hand was last in his?

And it was injured. As he scooped up a glob from the bowl with his right hand, he felt Rose stiffen. "Will it hurt?"

"Might tingle a bit at first, and then as those blisters begin go down it's going to itch. It will probably itch some later too, but you can't scratch it. Okay?"

"Got it." Rose's eyes fell shut as his fingers stroked gingerly across her sore palm. Focusing on the raw redness of her skin, how he was already softening those tight, hard blisters, helped him keep it together as this task suddenly felt very intimate. Just him and her, alone in this small room, no sound but that of their tandem breathing, her denim-clad knees every so often brushing just above his own. Minutes ticked by as his fingertips slid, with gentle deliberateness, over every dip and swell of her palm and fingers.

Rose kept her eyes closed, as if she were afraid of any potential pain, though the Doctor knew it was more an attempt at space between her and him. The blisters had now faded completely and he began on a second coat of ointment, attempting to tone down the painful redness. Though Rose had been steadily relaxing as the process went on, at this point the Doctor was wholeheartedly wishing he could close his own eyes. Without the blisters (or even Rose's watchful gaze) to deter him, his attention was endlessly drifting away from his task and up to her face, to the perfect arch of her brows, her long, fanned out lashes. The sweet curve of her cheek. Her pink, parted lip- _stop it._

If his free hand wasn't covered in goo, his hair would've gotten a few good yanks, until the sting snapped him back to his senses. Blimey, he needed to finish this up. The Doctor made a few final swipes, lastly running his thumb along the base of her hand, and then up through the center of her palm. With a soft gasp, Rose shivered- and then suddenly he was drowning, swept up in a flood of scent; a heady melding of skin and salve and pheromones.

"All finished!" It came out far too loud and Rose jumped, her eyes flying open as he dropped her hand. He hastily stripped off his gloves. "How's that for miracles, eh?"

Miracles, indeed. He needed another one, right about now, so he could get out of this room before he succumbed and did something enormously stupid.

Rose flexed her hand, testing it, and smiled. "Thank you. S'brilliant."

"Notice there's still some damaged tissue, just like you wanted. I did a rubbish job, actually, but at least no one should be suspicious." Fumbling in a drawer, he swiftly located and tossed her a soft knitted glove. "Wear that to protect it while we're working. I'll, ah, wrap it up again later." While speaking, he had backed out the door into the safety of the corridor, hauling in a lungful of fresh air.

Rose was still blinking at him from the bed, glove in hand, as he turned and fled to the console room.

Though the TARDIS had closed her doors while they were in the infirmary, she allowed the Doctor to open them up again, indulgent ship that she was. He stood, half in half out, upper back against the doorframe, and enjoyed how the breeze felt in hair that was admittedly damp around the back of his neck. Rassilon. All this cleverness in getting Rose to spend time with him, but it didn't extend to helping him survive it. So far it was nothing but tension and eggshells, and while they'd accomplished a bit with the cannon, the discussion had never circled anywhere close to _them_.

_Look at you_, Doctor, he thought, a wry smile crossing his face. _Stuck piecing clever gadgets together, when all you really want to do is discuss feelings and settle relationships._

His past selves would be horrified.

A little thrill flipped his stomach as he heard Rose come in. Turning round, he found himself greeting her with a beaming smile, as if he hadn't seen her in days, and was rewarded with a real, if somewhat bewildered, smile in return. He snuck a quick peek at his watch- yep, in reality, it had been less than three minutes. Absurd. That's what he was.

He went and met her, once again steeling himself against such close physical proximity, juxtaposed with frustrating emotional distance. It wouldn't be easy, but, she was _here._ His Rose. He hardly had reason for complaint.

Together, slowly, they began sorting through the items on the portable table, gradually figuring out what was usable, listing out what they might still need. And in between, the Doctor somehow managed to strike up an easy, landmine-free conversation, peppering her with questions about her few months at UNIT. He even dredged up a few stories of his own time there that she'd never heard before.

They were hesitant and careful, regaining their footing with one another. Not exactly what he'd hoped for, but it was a start. It was progress.

And, he thought, hearing Rose's laugh ring out as he tripped over a stabilizing device (which had been abandoned to the floor despite her warning against it), he wasn't exactly hating it.


	12. Chapter 12

**As always, a million thanks to YouCleverBoys for the beta! And I must give full cred to Ashlanielle (who is the dialogue-writing queen, imo), for getting me past a very sticky spot in the Doctor and Rose's conversation. :)**

* * *

_Previously:_

_But the Doctor's mind was already so fully focused on what lay ahead that, unfortunately, he didn't really see anything. Including a familiar, beat-up, rusty old van parked across the street from Clara's house._

_Though the men in the van most definitely noticed him._

* * *

Clara was definitely beginning to hate this dining chair, which was not designed for hours of continuous use. Shifting again, this time she arched up so she could press a hand against her aching lower back.

Mousy-man and his cohort, that nasty, bespectacled blonde girl, who'd been slumped on the nice comfy sofa facing her, immediately bolted upright and watched her actions intently.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Rats," she muttered under her breath. "You two just foiled my grand plan to jog right out of here." Sheesh, they were a high-strung group. All nervous and jumpy like a bunch of little lap dogs, just because bossy old Scar-head had left the room.

With the thick drapes drawn and only a single lamp on a table, the little house's lounge was dark, and Clara lifted her wrist to peer at her watch. Nearly seven p.m. Several hours had passed since she had been abducted and brought here- yes, abducted, as in hauled, kicking, entirely against her will, into their horrid old van in the middle of the day. And that was the word she was sticking with, no matter how much Mousy apologized or scary Scar-y referred to her as their 'guest of honor'.

She didn't know why she was so surprised when it ended up being about the Doctor. He was flashy and alien and he never minded attracting attention, so of course there'd be others who knew of him. That was fine.

Their bias against the Time Lord, however, was not. Of course, humans could be closed-minded creatures, frequently prejudiced against other _humans_, so his having been born on an entirely different planet was bound to be a problem for someone.

And oh, it was definitely a problem with this group. Clara fidgeted, worry making her restless, and wished she could put a finger on what it was that they really wanted from her. Scar-head kept insisting that she contact the Doctor, yet he wasn't overly upset when she claimed that she couldn't. They'd been prodding for information as well- yet, a few offhand comments showed her that they weren't exactly ignorant of the Doctor's ways.

So far, she had one theory that had not yet been disproved.

She was bait.

The very idea made her insides clench. Clara glanced at the two on the sofa again, then to the big guy by the door, and considered simply screaming. Perhaps someone would hear her, call the police, and she'd be out of here before the Doctor was ever the wiser.

At that moment, Scar-y returned from the kitchen, beverage in hand, and seemed to read her mind. "Those two kids get home from school soon, yes? Go ahead, make a fuss. We'll pick them up too. I've got people in that neighbourhood right now."

She glared at him. "Though you were trying to convince me that you lot aren't criminals."

He shrugged. "Coke?" he offered, holding the can out.

Clara narrowed her eyes further and he smiled. "Suit yourself." He dragged his own dining chair closer to her and sat down again, popping open his beverage. "So, sweetheart, you ready to make that phone call yet?"

"You're like a broken record."

"Ooh. I think that's progress." He swiveled to face the other goons, which gave Clara another good look at that scar: a strange, horizontal thing that ran through his dark hair in an unbroken white line, from one temple clear to the other. Only his forehead was unscathed. "Hear that, Stuart? She's finally quit denying that he's got a phone number."

"I know other people who've got it," Stuart, the mousy one, chimed in.

"Ask them for it then."

Scar-head- Morgan- turned back to Clara with a dark glint in his eyes. "Must I spell this out again? He needs to know that the human race is in jeopardy."

Clara sighed, beyond tired of this conversation. "You do realize he's a Time Lord? If anybody would know if our future's in danger, it'd be him. Not you."

Morgan leaned his long, thin body back, crossing his arms behind his head. His blue eyes stared at her, cold and piercing. "Just one problem with that. One very big problem." He sat up, tense and rigid. "Your precious Doctor doesn't want to fix it, because he's the person who set it in motion. It's _his_ plan. But this isn't _his_ bloody planet, is it? So why should he just do as he likes?"

Cold fear ran through Clara, but not because of these ridiculous accusations. "So what's your plan, then? Threaten to kill me if he doesn't cooperate?"

There was silence for several long beats before he responded. "If that's what it takes."

"Yeah. Still not thinkin' you're the good guys."

Morgan's nostrils flared and he jumped up, red-faced, teeth grinding. Snatching Clara by the elbow, he hauled her to her feet, pressed his nose close to her own. "I don't care in the least what you think. You're here to help us motivate him, you stupid, stupid girl. Since so far he hasn't seemed inclined to do anything out of the goodness of his heart."

He wrenched her arm a bit before he released her, pacing the few short steps across the room and back, before towering over her again. Clara rubbed at the sore spot just above her elbow, where his fingers had dug in so fiercely, and glowered at him. "You're the one who's stupid. You've got him all wrong."

Never breaking eye contact, Morgan inhaled and exhaled through parted lips, as if he were trying to rein himself in. Clara was careful not to flinch. She could see Stuart hovering in the background, wringing his hands. Finally her captor shook his head. "He's brainwashed her," he declared, voice ringing through the house's small lounge. "Has to have."

Clara tried to bite her tongue, but oh, that swotty blonde girl was smirking and- "My mind is entirely my own, thank you. Paint the Doctor as evil as you like, but that's just something else he'd never do. And I know him a helluva lot better than any of you lot."

"Such devotion," said Morgan sardonically, and the others snickered. "But I can understand, because you've been friends with him for...how long now?" He raised his eyebrows at Clara, waiting for an answer. "How long did you say, my dear?"

Folding her arms, Clara didn't respond.

"A few months, was it? Not that it matters. After all, some people are willing to make lifelong commitments after knowing one another for no longer than that. It's all about communication. I'm sure the alien has told you all about his past. His dirty little secrets. The battle at Canary Wharf tower, for example. Of course, your school textbooks won't mention the Time Lord, or how the blood of all those people are on his hands." Morgan gripped a chair, rocking it back and forth, its legs thumping on the carpet. "Though that was far from his first offense. Who do you think blew up 10 Downing Street back in 2006?"

Stuart spoke up. "How'd you know that?"

Morgan turned narrowed eyes on the smaller man. "You think you're my only inside source?" He tsk-ed. "Jenkins. As if."

Gooseflesh prickled up Clara's arms, and she rubbed them, digging her toes in the carpet. "I don't care what you say. Whether he was involved in those things or not, I know that the Doctor wouldn't kill people."

"He's an alien," said Morgan coldly, as if that fact were proof enough. "And he has a time machine. Don't you understand how powerful that makes him? He can manipulate our history, our futures, like that." He snapped his fingers. "And suddenly a war is lost. Or a potentially great leader is murdered, gone before her time."

Clara threw her hands out. "But...that's not how it works. Time and all. He can't just change things like that; he literally _can't_."

Morgan snorted derisively, but over his shoulder Clara caught sight of Stuart. He was staring at her, a strange look on his face.

"UNIT counts him as an ally," he suddenly said, his voice quiet.

Morgan rounded on him. "Old-school, militarized, alien-loving fools," he declared with venom. "Can't see past the ends of their noses. Before this decade is out the entire planet will be overrun with parasites, and they'd be all for it. Lord, for all we know we could someday end up with an alien Prime Minister."

"Would that be so bad?" asked Clara.

"Are you familiar with zebra mussels? Kudzu? Infamous invasive species. They move in, and before you know it, the native flora and fauna are fighting for their lives, for what's _theirs_. The ecology gets turned upside down." He picked up his drink from the table and then set it down again. "No one is protecting us. Humans. And I don't mean from weeds or infected waterways."

"The Doctor's been protecting us for centuries."

"Believing it doesn't make it true. You're brainwashed, remember?" Morgan wiggled his fingers near Clara's temples. "He can have you believing anything, with one little, itty bitty touch. Or if you find out too much, he could simply steal your memories."

"That's a lie."

He laughed. "Now I know you're clueless, if you don't even know he's telepathic."

"And he doesn't know I can do back handsprings. So what?"

Morgan flung himself down on the sofa, into the spot that Stuart had vacated. "I'm tired of this. Get her out of my sight."

Before she knew what was happening, the big one wordlessly took her by the arm, dragged her off to a small bedroom and shoved her in. Clara heard a clicking sound outside the closed door, and knew it had been locked.

Swallowing, she looked around. There was a double bed, made up with a rather pretty bedspread, but aside from that the room was empty, save a couple of large cardboard boxes. Her next discovery was that the one small window was nailed shut. It looked into an empty back garden.

Quietly, Clara perched on the edge of the bed. Being their hostage was not an option. What to do? Though the group seemed rather ragtag, she had no idea how many others were out there. She didn't know what kind of technology or weapons they might have. Still, there was no doubt the Doctor had faced worse threats.

They were just...so hateful. Despising the Doctor for what he was, without even knowing him. It bothered Clara, eating at her deep inside.

So. She was bait. They meant to threaten her life so the Doctor would concede to their wishes. Clara popped off the bed, feeling anxious, and went to look out the window again.

Would he? she wondered. Not that it would ever come down to that- but...would he? Do _anything_ necessary to save her?

Tapping a finger against the glass, Clara shook her head. No, he wouldn't. And that's how it should be. For a man as powerful as the Doctor, he could never afford to allow personal ties to keep him from pursuing the greater good. And for as close as she and he were, Clara knew the greater good would win out, every time.

Still...

Best not to risk it.

Clara knelt down before a cardboard box, opened it and began to rummage. There had to be something useful inside, to help her pry those nails out of the windowsill.

* * *

Rose had just wrangled another tricky equation onto the notebook paper when she heard it- her name being called, the vowel long and drawn out. Only the perfectly pronounced _R_ told her it _wasn't_ Charlie, upset about something.

"Rooooose," it came again, and she glanced up. "Why...why are there _bugs _in the TARDIS?"

With his coat off and shirt-cuffs rolled, the Doctor was still on the far side of the room, where he'd been programming a computer for its eventual link with the cannon. His nose was scrunched and his expression disgusted as he eyed several flies, swarming about the attracting light of the Time Rotor.

A full laugh bubbled up out of Rose, and she covered her mouth with a hand. She'd been doing a lot of that today; giggling at everything and nothing, like an overtired, sugared-up child. Lord, she was _so_ wound up.

"Rose," he whinged one more time, bouncing a bit and waving his hands in a vain attempt to shoo out the unwanted visitors. "A bit of help would be nice!"

With another helpless laugh, Rose laid her notebook on the jump-seat and got to her feet. "What for?" she asked, stretching. "You're the one who insisted on having those doors open. Either shut them or get used to the flies, since they'll only come back in again."

That earned her a stroppy glare, though the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. Chin jutting, the Doctor strode for the console, that massive intellect of his probably devoted toward some clever plan to have it both ways. Ten seconds later a quicksilver grin lit his face and she knew he had it. "Ah _ha_! Just watch me."

She snorted. 'Watch' him, indeed. Like that would be difficult. The real trick would be to _not_ watch him, showy daft alien that he was. She'd been watching him all day. Even though they'd been at this for hours, the surrealness hadn't waned, and Rose couldn't convince herself that it was real- she was on the TARDIS _with_ the Doctor; he was actually _here_. And she was soaking him in like he was the sun, returned after months of storm and dark. She couldn't help it.

Good as it felt, guilt cast a shadow over everything. Intellectually, she knew that she didn't deserve this. Not only that; this was dangerous. But so far she hadn't run, mostly because to do so again was the one thing that would actually be crueler than staying. Yet Rose had not changed her convictions; she remained deathly afraid of the Wolf, what it may have in store if she got too close to this wonderful man.

She was playing with fire. She should get out now, before they both succumbed.

Those round spectacles were on his nose again, his eyes squinty and intent as he peered into the monitor, nimble fingers flying over the keyboard. Though his air was all focused concentration, his gaze flickered her way again and again, as if he were afraid that he'd already lost her attention (or lost her, altogether). Those eyes begged her for things that his mouth hadn't dared to.

_Don't leave me. Please. I need you._

And powerful guilt rolled over her again, but of the opposing sort. It argued and battled with the other guilt, until she was nearly ready to throw her arms around the Doctor's neck, hold him tight, and whisper a million rash promises.

That was her heart at work. It had always held far too much sway over her actions- and problem was, ever since last weekend, Rose's heart had come to be in vehement opposition to her head. It seemed as if no amount of logic could overcome some of the things he'd said to her.

_"you're not going to hurt me"_

_"I trust you"_

_"I didn't find you by accident...the TARDIS has been preparing me, all this time, telling me where I would find you again. And I can't believe that's for nothing. You and I together, it's...destiny."_

That last one struck her hardest. Not so much the scary 'destiny' part, but his claim of TARDIS involvement- could she, would she, have actually orchestrated their reunion? And if so, why?

Rose trusted the TARDIS. Implicitly. And for the life of her, she just could not conceive of why the time-ship would outright promote something that could hurt her beloved pilot. It made no sense.

And even now, as she stood here watching him type away, she could pick up on the ship's telepathic vibe, and for once there was no question as to its interpretation. The TARDIS was serene. Satisfied. Almost to the point of smugness.

She'd never seen it coming, but, Rose had to admit she was currently nursing some major doubts as to the conclusions she'd drawn about Bad Wolf. Terrified as she was of harm coming to the Doctor...well, Rose had spent the last several days nearly as terrified that in rejecting him, she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Tossing her a grin, the Doctor quit with the keyboard and punched a button on the console with flair, then spun to face her. "There we go; that minor electrical field ought to deter them. You impressed yet?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. His true motivation for inviting people onboard this ship."

His grin widened and he leaned back against a panel on the console. "Probably. Though funnily enough, I always seem to pick the ones who aren't so easily impressed."

He meant her, of course. Her unwillingness to travel with him today was bothering him, big time, and she knew she should explain. Then again, she was looking at the absolute king of reticence, and, typically, he'd been avoiding her questions too. Rose played with her earring. "Like Amy and Rory, yeah?"

Expression shifting into neutral, the Doctor was suddenly very intent on the monitor.

"Doctor." She waited patiently for him to meet her eyes. "What happened to them?"

He swallowed, gaze flicking to his boots. "Why would you think something happened?"

"Because you dodged my question earlier, and you're dodging it now." Rose observed the console room again. It was so dark, so grey, all straight lines and sharp edges. "Why does the TARDIS look like this? Like...you've been sad?"

"They're not dead." His statement was forceful, resolute, and Rose remembered hearing how he used to make that same claim about her. She watched him pocket his specs, closing his eyes as he rubbed at the red indentations on either side of his nose.

"Lost, somehow?"

He braced himself against the console and opened his eyes, staring down at the buttons and knobs. "You've heard about the Weeping Angels?"

Rose thought for a moment. "The ones who got you stuck in 1969?" He nodded. "So Amy and Rory- they're lost in time?"

The Doctor nodded again, a slow single bob of his head. "It happened quite some time ago, actually. I, uh, I changed the TARDIS immediately afterward- too many reminders. Swore off traveling for awhile. Those were...dark times. But the Ponds; they were together and in the end that's all either of them really wanted. Amy wrote me a letter. They had a good life."

Rose laid her hand on the rolled cuff of his shirtsleeve, comforting. His gaze went to her hand; focused on it for several long, silent seconds. Then, when his head came up and his eyes met hers again, their dark, soft depths told Rose that his current thoughts were most definitely _not_ on the Ponds. She hastily drew her hand away. Goodness, she needed to keep her stupid hands to herself; as if this wasn't complicated enough. "You know it's not good for you to be traveling alone."

The Doctor stiffened and Rose immediately cringed. Why had she gone and blurted that out? And after refusing to travel with him herself. Like she'd gone poking her finger into an open wound.

Only...from the way his hands came up to begin twisting around each other, he was far more nervous than hurt. Perhaps...a teensy bit guilty.

_Oh_...and there it was again, jealousy's unpleasant burn. But she had no right to be upset; hadn't she just said she didn't want him to be alone? Who he traveled with...it was none of her business. Besides, Rose had adored Amy and Rory.

Although...her adoration might've been slightly less fervent without the '_and Rory_' part.

"Or, perhaps," ventured Rose, running her finger around a dial, "you haven't been?" She bit her lip. Perhaps he would reveal a new penchant for traveling with married couples.

He shrugged a little, zigzagging a plotter down its path and up again before pushing away from the console. "It's not like it used to be. Hasn't been for a long while; even the Ponds didn't actually live here, at least not at the end. They have lives, jobs, and they don't want to give them up. And Clara," he turned toward Rose and gave another shrug. "Well, she's a nanny, so she has to take care of the children. But she likes an adventure or two on her day off."

"Course she does, yeah," Rose found herself responding, bouncing the white toe of her trainer against the floor and failing at not hating the sugary-sweet, overly-young, single girl image the name 'Nanny Clara' had just conjured up. "I mean, it's great that she's so responsible and all, you know, working a job and still making time for traveling, that's...it's great, yeah. I'm happy for you. You know, cos it's..."

"Great?"

Her eyes flew to the Doctor- and yes, he was smiling. The git. "Course. Just said you should travel with someone, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes, you did mention that." His expression sobered. "And you also made it quite clear that you weren't the one for the job."

Rose ran a hand over her hair, twirling her fingers in her pony-tail.

The Doctor emptied his lungs. "Look. I haven't lied- I do need your help with all this," he said, gesturing to the mess scattered across the table and piled on the floor underneath it. "But we both know that's not the only reason I returned," he added frankly, and Rose flushed. "I was hoping..."

She knew what he wanted to say. _Hoping that you'd changed your mind. Hoping you'd come along. Hoping we'd get our forever, after all._

But he must've thought better of voicing any of it, and shook his head. "But you won't even go on one trip. It's not even a trip," he clarified. "A bloody _errand._ Just to show you the rift. Why not?"

Confusion and hurt was thick in his voice, and her eyes pricked and blurred. How cruel she'd been- rejecting him, twice, with very little explanation. As if he should just accept it and move on.

"I'm sorry," he said, all worried brow and contrition, misinterpreting her wet eyes. "I shouldn't be upset with you, especially when I'm the one who's not got any of this right-"

"No, it was my fault, Doctor."

"It wasn't. I've been over and over this, thinking about everything you've said, how you've reacted to me, just trying to understand. You're grieving, of course you are, and I can't believe that at first I never considered that. But, now being with you today, I can tell there's far more to it. You're _scared_."

Rose froze, taken aback, with no means of reply. Because he was right.

"All this time," he went on, "I've had this idea in my head. That, that if he was gone, you...could belong with me. Partially because I'm him, too, and partially because, well, _this_," he indicated the air between them, "was between you and me, first. But-" The Doctor marched out across the room, then faced her, one hand buried in his hair. "But none of that matters, does it? You were his because he stayed. Whereas I'm the one who's never done anything but abandon you." His voice was quiet resignation. "So you don't trust me."

Floundering, Rose tried to process his words, tried to find the right ones of her own. Yes, she was scared. Yes, it _was_ due to trust issues. But how could she explain that her mistrust wasn't in him, but in something far more powerful-

The Doctor, taking her silence as agreement, nodded tightly, and went to return to his project. Rose took a quick step his way, motioning with her hands. "Doctor, wait. I was just trying to get my thoughts together, yeah? None of this- I'm not acting like this because of anything you've done. S'just...okay, like the travelin' part? I can't right now, because it's too hard. I...I love it too much. Next thing I know I'm caught up in the moment, forgetting all about what could happen..."

"Like _what_? What are you so scared of then, if it's not me?" He shook his head, looking all around, as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the room. "Of an accidental bond? Because if that's all it is, I swear I'll take to wearing gloves this instant. I'm sure there's some in the wardrobe room that won't go half bad with this outfit." All at once he came close and bent his face to hers, a feverish look in his eyes. "But if you believe that I'm the one who's afraid of that, you're wrong. I am the opposite of afraid."

Rose closed her eyes, unable to bear the intensity in his anymore. "It's not about the bond."

She heard him exhale a frustrated breath. "Okay. Okay. So _what_ is it then?"

Why couldn't he let it go? Just leave it alone? Her fists clenched, every nerve going taut. "I'm scared of what might happen _to_ you, _alright_?"

Forehead creasing, the Doctor gave her a blank, baffled look. Rose's throat tightened. Of course he didn't get it. But she couldn't _do_ this right now, this going round and round with him, god. What did he want her to bloody _say_? Her fingers dug into the back of her scalp, slipped under her hair-band to loosen her ponytail, and she tried her best not to fall apart.

The Doctor's eyes turned gentle, his voice cautious. "Rose. Nothing is going to happen."

She yanked the band from her hair, tears flooding her eyes. "That's stupid; you don't know _anything_! You don't know what I've done. He died because of _me. Died,_ just so I could come back here, to be with you, and that was _wrong_. You're- both of you- you're too bloody willing to do _anything_ for me, and I just take and take."

"Rose-"

"Don't." She swiped at her wet eyes, stepping blindly away from him, and gasped when her hip connected with the edge of the console, hard. "Don't deny it," she went on, waving him off and ignoring the pain. "How many _bloody times _have you died for me, Doctor? No more. I can't. I just can't let it happen again."

Spent, Rose found a jump-seat and collapsed onto it, swallowing hard to fight off her stupid tears. Her hip ached and she rubbed it, focusing her gaze on her jeans. The Doctor was eerily quiet. After a minute or so she glanced up to find him studying her, his eyes unreadable. "How did you feel when I sent you away from the Game Station?"

Rose frowned, blinking. "What?"

"Or, how about that time I hung a big yellow button round your neck and gave it a push? Didn't even ask?"

Her eyes narrowed at the memory. "Why are we talking about this?"

"Just answer the question, Rose."

"I hated it," she muttered, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. "You had no right to make those decisions for me."

With a crisp nod, the Doctor unhurriedly crossed his arms. "But it's okay for you to make decisions for me?"

Her mouth opened. Making his decisions? She wasn't- she'd been protecting him, yes, but that was all, because she was the one who knew better. What else-

A sudden clatter at the entry distracted them. Rose looked over just in time to catch sight of Charlie, clanging over the ramp at full toddler speed, having bounded into the time-ship without even hesitating. With hands held up and out in horizontal fists, he was a small bundle of noise, blowing through his lips to produce a sound rather like a wet bumblebee.

Rose was stunned for an instant before she laughed, a short, surprised sound. "Charlie-boy! What's all this? Did you ride your motorbike in?"

The buzzing stopped and the little boy nodded solemnly, clutching onto a railing and lifting his feet off the floor.

"Where's your mummy, love?" she asked, getting up to go to him.

At that moment a breathless Martha appeared at the door, two stacked pizza boxes in her hands. "Charlie, didn't I say to wait for Mummy? Sorry," she said to Rose. "He got away from me again. And I can't believe he just ran on in like that!"

"Must not take after his dad, then," said Rose, managing a smile as she tied her hair up again. "Took awhile for _him_ to have any interest in getting on this ship."

"Oh, he's never mentioned anything like that," replied Martha, chuckling as she came down the stairs. "Now this I have to hear-"

A spluttering sound came from the other side of the console, and Rose and Martha both looked over at the seriously befuddled Doctor. "Is it just me," he drawled, eyebrows raised, "or is there a toddler onboard my TARDIS?"

Rose raised her eyebrows back at him. "Yes," she replied, just as slowly, "that's Charlie. Martha and Mick's little boy? How did you not know about him?" She gestured to the child in question, who was still swinging happily on the railing.

"How did no one tell me about him?" he shot back.

Martha smiled, shaking her head, and set the pizza boxes down on a captain's chair. "Did you not see his toys all over our lounge?"

"Well, yes. But I just figured they were Mickey's!"

"What were mine?" said Mickey as he strolled in, carrying a stack of paper plates, forks and napkins piled on top. "Oh, crap. Forgot the drinks. An' that's a bloody long walk."

"Language," chided Martha, shooting her husband a look.

"Sorry." Mickey set the plates on the floor, plucked Charlie from the railing and scooped him up.

The Doctor looked over at Rose, wide-eyed. "My TARDIS is being invaded, Rose. Again." But she could tell he was secretly pleased.

"That's what you get when you leave the doors open," she replied, smiling. "Are there drinks in the kitchen?"

"Yes, I suppose there are. But none of that rubbish Mickey likes."

"It doesn't matter," said Mickey as he came over to join them, his small curly-haired boy perched in the crook of his elbow. "So whaddya think, Boss?" he added, bouncing a giggle out of Charlie. "We do alright with this little guy?"

Shaking his head as if astonished, the Doctor smiled widely at everyone, then pointed his finger at Charlie's nose. "Look at you, another little Smith. Never have too many of those." Crouching down a tad, he addressed the little boy from just below his level. "Hello, Charlie. I'm the Doctor. Bet Mummy and Daddy have told you loads about me."

"No," replied Charlie solemnly, taking in the Doctor with round brown eyes.

Rose and Martha giggled, watching as the Doctor straightened, looking injured. "It's not like we hadn't planned to," Martha reassured him. "But he's sort of young for those stories yet."

It didn't help, because Mickey had outright enjoyed his son's answer and now the Doctor was indignant. Rose changed the subject. "Hey, thanks for bringing the pizza, you two. Think we should eat before it gets cold?"

In reply Martha went and flipped open the boxes, which were still lying on a jump-seat. "I've got plain cheese, and one with ham and banana peppers."

The Doctor, whose nose had wrinkled at first, now looked interested. "Banana peppers?"

"Yep." Martha plopped a slice onto a plate, handing it to him.

"Where's the kitchen these days?" Rose called, as she headed up the stairs.

"Second door on the right in that first corridor," the Doctor told her, pointing. "Has a glass door. Can't miss it."

"Ta. Everyone okay with Coke?"

The response was affirmative and Rose took off. On entering the kitchen, she paused, taking in the red stools and booths, remembering. Of course it was the image of that old café and she knew going in that it would be, had seen it once before, even. But now, all she could think about was that the TARDIS had done it up like this on purpose, and for once it was not because of a whim.

The TARDIS had led the Doctor to her. Reunited them, because she wanted to.

All at once, warmth bloomed deep in her chest- a spark of hope.

She felt another spark of a far different sort, as she passed the last booth on her way to the fridge. In the real café, this was the scene of their most recent almost-kiss, and Rose's heart sped up as she let herself recall it.

_Blimey_, she thought, after catching herself touching her fingertips to her lips. _Knock it off, Tyler. Back to the task at hand._

There was soda in the fridge, as promised, but other than that and a few boxes of pre-packaged biscuits in a cabinet, the kitchen was a barren wasteland. This bothered Rose greatly as she trekked back to the console room, arms full of cold cans. It reminded her way too much of the old him- the broken, lonely soldier- and how things were around here when she'd first started traveling with him.

"_It's not like it used to be,"_ he'd claimed. "_Hasn't been for a long while; even the Ponds didn't actually live here."_

How much time did he spend alone these days, just knocking about, all on his own? It broke her heart just to think of it.

On returning to the console room, Rose gazed down from the platform above. Martha and Mickey shared a jump-seat, eating and chatting with the Doctor, who stood near them, and Charlie was on the floor, cramming cut-up bits of pizza into his mouth. Smiling at the homey scene, she descended the stairs, setting the soda cans on the work-table amidst all the other odds and ends.

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked the empty-handed Doctor, filling a plate for herself.

His expression turned dark. "Banana peppers are not at all what they claim to be."

Rose laughed at him, sorry she hadn't been there to see him first realize. "So eat a plain cheese piece then, there's still some left."

He eyed her, wrinkling his nose. "Not much of a pizza fan these days."

"Doctor. I saw your kitchen. You need to take better care of yourself. Please?"

With a mighty, long-suffering sigh, he grabbed a slice from the box and took an enormous, rude bite. "Happy?" he asked her, around the mouthful.

Smiling brightly at him, Rose nodded.

And for the first time in ages, it wasn't a lie.


	13. Chapter 13

**Beta-ed by the lovely YouCleverBoys.**

* * *

Maybe, the Doctor was beginning to think, there could be some value in a Sunday after all.

The Smith's modest kitchen was warm and cheery, filled with the scents and sizzles of breakfast food, its window cracked open to a morning that was all dark, drippy skies and cool air. The latter infiltrated just enough, the little chilly bursts adding welcome freshness to the room, yet making all of them truly appreciate their cosy little haven.

It was quiet at the moment, but for the soft rhythmic scrape of Martha busily grating potatoes. Mickey stood at the other countertop (clad in jimjam bottoms- that part of the morning the Doctor could have done without) cracking eggs into a bowl, and carelessly tossing the shells into an already overflowing rubbish bin. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, the Doctor watched them teeter there. As soon as Charlie raced past it again, that whole lot'd be on the floor, no doubt.

He crouched, purposefully concealing his lanky body behind the bar, and heard Rose behind him, giggling into her tea. As a thunder of little footsteps approached from the lounge the Doctor shot her a look of mock-admonishment from over his shoulder, index finger pressed to his lips.

This didn't quiet Rose at all but Charlie came zooming by anyway, his squeals becoming ecstatic shrieks as the Doctor snatched him up and swung him around. "Gotcha!"

With a belly-laugh, the little boy arched his back, pushing away with one hand on the Doctor's chest, his prize (in the form of a small, rectangular-ish blue box) still clutched in his outstretched other hand.

"Oh, no, you're not escaping me this time," teased the Doctor, tipping him upside down. "Nobody steals my TARDIS and gets away with it."

"Where'd that thing come from, anyway?" asked Martha, raising her voice over her son's happy screeching. She elbowed Mickey out of her way so she could poke a fork into the pan of bacon.

The Doctor set the noisy little thief back on his feet and watched him dash off, mini-TARDIS still in hand. "Oh, an old friend of mine made it for me, when she was a little girl."

Martha looked concerned. "Best be careful then, he might ruin it."

"He can have it," replied the Doctor, propping himself against the bar. "I have loads of others. Maybe it will help you remember to tell him a few stories about me."

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Martha left the stove to return to the pile of shredded potatoes, and the Doctor's gaze drifted back to Rose, as if by magnet-pull. She was still sitting at the table, quietly watching all the goings-on with her chin in her hand. After she'd gone to bed last night, he'd spent every hour afterward worrying that the small amount of time and distance apart would undo all their progress. He'd trudged up to the house fully prepared for the worst- if she greeted him at all, it would be from deep inside her metaphorical fortress.

So when he'd stepped warily in and saw her sitting there -sleepy, still in her jimjams, yet flashing him a wide, real smile- he didn't know what, exactly, to do about it. Besides trip all over himself like an idiot and hover around the edges of the kitchen.

Rose met his eyes and smiled shyly at him, running her fingertip around and around the rim of her mug.

Grin going crooked, the Doctor daringly held her gaze, testing the waters, not even attempting to hide the warm affection in his eyes. He was probably the very image of a lovesick fool, yet what did it matter? As every person here already knew, he _was_ a lovesick fool. Plus, he was beginning to believe that displaying his somewhat vulnerable, forward side had been winning him points with Rose. Gaining him ground. Or something was, anyway. He wasn't about to start questioning it.

Rose continued to stare back, lashes low, her smile turning faintly wicked- and suddenly this was a competition, a coquettish contest he was bound to win. Butterflies fluttered madly in his belly, adding to their numbers with every passing second. The ceiling could tumble down over his head before he'd look away first.

Too soon, Rose blinked, fighting a smile as her eyes went to the table. She picked up her cup and swirled it, then drained the last of her tea in one long swallow.

"Want another cuppa?" Martha asked from where she stood at the sink, her tone falsely casual. Mickey snickered, and then yelped when Martha flicked water at his head with her dripping wet fingers.

"Yeah, suppose," said Rose, ignoring their little exchange. "I'll make us all a fresh pot, since you won't let me help with anything else." She stood and went to the electric kettle.

As soon as her back was turned, Martha beckoned the Doctor with a wave of the dish towel in her hands.

The Doctor frowned and went over. "What?"

"Go sit by her," she mouthed.

His confused frown deepened. "By Rose?"

Martha nodded, once, very big, as if he were Charlie's age.

He hesitated, and Martha made sure Rose was still occupied before taking him by the elbow. "C'mon, enough with the moon-eyes across the kitchen!" she hissed into his ear. "We're gonna eat in a few minutes anyway. So go sit down, and then you can stare at each other some more and who knows? Maybe you'll even get a nice snog out of the deal and save us all a lot of trouble."

Silently, the Doctor ran a hand over the back of his neck and obeyed, although he felt like telling her that she'd best not gamble on that one. Flirtatious looks were one thing, but even without Rose's fear and guilt still standing as a barrier between them, there was no chance of her instigating a display of affection that could catch them in an eternal bond.

For that reason, he hadn't dared let his fantasies circle anywhere remotely close to any potential kissing. Much. Holding hands though- that was another story. Every time he got near her, his fingers itched to lace with hers, to reconnect with her in that way that had always been so important to them. Before, they had been like two gears perfectly fitted, meshing together without a hitch.

Now her hands were as forbidden as her lips, and it felt like a symbol of everything that was wrong between them.

"Tea, Doctor?" asked Rose, pot in her hand. He nodded and she poured a second mugful of the steaming, fragrant liquid, then set it in front of him on the table. She settled back into the chair beside him with her own tea, and he watched her add her customary amounts of milk and sugar. She sipped, testing it, both hands curled around the lucky piece of ceramic.

"How's your burn today?" She wasn't wearing the thin protective glove he'd given her yesterday.

"Doesn't hurt anymore." Rose laid it, palm up, on the table between them, and he peered at it. Red and swollen yet, the skin fragile.

"Please wear the glove when we're working later, okay? It's probably fine for now, since we're just sitting here, but I don't want you to risk injuring it further."

She nodded, sipping again and playing with a wayward strand of hair that had fallen from her messy bun.

"So how is that gonna work?" asked Mickey without turning around, frying something in a pan. "With the dimension cannon. It'll help you close that rift somehow?"

Reaching for the sugar bowl, the Doctor began spooning some into his tea. "What makes you say that? The cannon is designed for trans-dimensional travel, it's not _magic_. I'm surprised you don't understand that. Didn't you help develop it?"

Mickey did turn around then, spatula in his hand, mouth half open on a retort, but Rose cut him off. "The Doctor thinks that something is preventing the rift's retro-closure. Like something slipped in through it funny."

"Imagine a wound," said the Doctor, dumping a spoonful of sugar on the table and running a finger through it, then setting a rusty screw from his pocket in the center. "And it's infected, it can't heal, because it has a foreign object caught inside. What do you do about it?"

"Remove the foreign object," posed Mickey warily, like it might be a trick question.

"But it would be better to get a _doctor_ to do it, eh? Eh?"

Mickey rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his pan.

"Anyway," continued the Doctor, "that was a rubbish analogy, because with a real wound it's fairly easy to pick out what doesn't belong in there. In this case, it could be anything. A bird, a stone, a piece of alien tech, whatever, and your only clue is that there'll be void stuff on it. Ideally, I'd find it, chuck it back through the breach to wherever it came from, and voila! instant retro-closure."

"But he can't find it," inserted Rose.

"No. Which means that now I have to get clever."

"I still don't see how the dimension cannon will help you with anything," said Martha, buckling Charlie into his highchair.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" said the Doctor, watching as Mickey set a plateful of the cut-up, spongy bits in front of the impatient toddler. "You turning American on us or something?"

"It was my idea," Rose told him, biting the tip of a fingernail. "Since I know you're so fond of the whole...savory and sweet thing."

They gazed at each other, smiling, until Martha cleared her throat. "So, Doctor, the cannon?"

"Right. Here's the thing- every universe has its particular phase-shift, and its own...frequency, of sorts. Theoretically, the breach should seal after I send _anything_ through, provided that it is of the correct frequency." He picked up the screw, then smoothed out the spilled sugar. "So that's where the cannon comes in. I'm going to use it to do a bit of inter-dimensional spelunking. Sort of like dropping into a deep pit with a safety rope," he added, and then immediately grimaced. He sent Rose an apologetic, side-long look. "Sorry, bad example."

"It's okay," she said, soothing his worry with a smile. "I've had a while to get over it."

"Anyway," he continued, "the cannon lets me pop through to the neighboring universe, where I retrieve a little something, return home, and toss it back through to trick the rift." He rolled the last three words off his tongue again, faster. "Ooh, I like that. Trick the rift. Try it, Rose."

"That's okay," said Rose, getting up. She came back with a stack of plates, just as Mickey and Martha were setting the platters of pancakes and hash-browns on the table.

He tried pancakes with syrup, as Rose encouraged him to, and actually liked them. The five of them ate and chatted, the Doctor plying Martha and Mickey with questions, and every so often he'd brush elbows with Rose, little sparks of warmth making his skin tingle. She seemed so happy today. Every part of him felt like casting his hopes to the sky.

Of course, none of it meant he was actually winning. When he and Rose had traveled together, he and she had shared plenty of longing looks, flirted outrageously, had been _in love_\- but none of it ever changed the fact that he had never, ever intended on following through.

Now he was on the opposite side of things. It wasn't fun at all.

"Suppose we should get working, yeah?" Rose said, nudging the Doctor with her elbow. She began to gather up the empty, sticky plates.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Right. Forgot to mention. Earlier this morning I realized that we need to upgrade the base transceiver, so the remote relay can pick up pan-dimensional signals. We can't move forward without it."

Rose pulled open the dishwasher, and tapped her lips. "Would a chronospacial antennae work?"

The Doctor beamed at her, proud. "Oh, I'd say so. Why? Do you have one on hand, by chance?"

"UNIT does."

Mickey grinned, open-mouthed. "How would you know that?"

"Dunno," said Rose, nonchalantly, adding dirty glasses to the top rack. "Sometimes I like to take a peek into their archives. Gary doesn't mind showing me around-"

"Ha, I'll bet Gary doesn't-"

"Yeah, and he also shows me pictures of his grandchildren," Rose retorted, giving Mickey a look. "Anyway, I probably recognize more of that alien tech than they do. Somebody needs to make sure they don't have something they shouldn't." She snuck a peek at the Doctor, flushing slightly under his approving look. "But I'll have to run into the city to fetch it."

"Ohhhh." Mickey drew the word out, loudly. "You mean nick it, yeah?"

"No," Rose refuted. "Borrow. I'll put it back when we've finished."

"We need to go into Manhattan?" The Doctor couldn't hide his reluctance. So much for avoiding that city until the end of time.

Rose looked at him, an apology in her eyes. "I know it will delay things a bit. But I shouldn't be gone more than a couple of hours."

He rubbed at the line between his eyebrows. "It's not that, I'm not worried about the delay, it's just..." He shook his head. "Never mind. We'll just go."

"Oh, um. You want to come?" Rose averted her eyes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "Because really, you know, it's probably best if you don't. S'just...UNIT has soldiers patrolling all over New York City. Nobody from work knows about my past connection with you, and I like it that way. People still fawn all over Mickey because of it."

Mickey stuffed another piece of bacon into his mouth. "S'never bothered me."

The Doctor was quiet, his eyes on Rose, who was busily loading the dishwasher. She wasn't being entirely truthful about her reasons for wanting to go alone. Had he done something to upset her? Come on too strong this morning? But...no, she'd flirted right back, he was sure of it-

"Rose," came Martha's voice, "you worry too much. It's not like the Doctor's photo is on posters lining the walls of UNIT headquarters. No one is going to recognize him." She met the Doctor's eyes and gave him an encouraging look. "Especially if you, you know. Tone down your appearance."

His jaw dropped in outrage, and Martha chuckled. "Just a tad. You'll be fine."

Straightening up, Rose turned and smiled at him, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "All right, then," she said. "You and I better get a move on, if we both need to change. We've got a train to catch."

* * *

Traveling with Rose Tyler had always had its perils.

This was a point that the Doctor would have done well to remember *before* they'd chosen their seats on the 11:49 train, southbound for Manhattan.

But, for the first time in endless years, he was _traveling with Rose Tyler._ This remarkable fact was thrilling enough to muddle his head, all on its own, but he was also trying to puzzle out the reasons why she was still acting so withdrawn. With all of this, how could he be expected to have any attention left to devote to something as mundane as seating-strategy?

And now he was in the bloody window seat, with Rose beside him on the end, nothing but a narrow aisle separating her from the kind of peril he feared most- the pretty kind.

They were more than halfway to their destination and the young, smartly-suited businessman had yet to try and speak with Rose, but he'd sent a few smiles her way and more than a few lingering glances. In a way, the Doctor couldn't really blame him. For all of Rose's claims of being "a mess" today, casual in fitted jeans and plimsolls and an overlarge sweatshirt, her beauty was unquestionable. Yet, no one knew better than he that it was not her looks that drew such constant attention. It was her...sparkle. Her loving, compassionate, brilliant nature, always on radiant display in her eyes and smile.

Rose herself could never see it, but her power was real- so much so that his scarred, disillusioned, guarded alien hearts had been awed by her glory and bowed before it, offering themselves in everlasting servitude within mere days of knowing her.

_Rassilon_, thought the Doctor, nostrils flaring as he was forced to send the bloke another warning glare, his eyes dark and narrowed. Just because he understood it didn't mean he had to like it. Or put up with it. Couldn't this idiot see that he and Rose were together?

_Not together_, his mind taunted him. _Not like that._

If they were, he knew this wouldn't be bothering him half as much. But with things so unclear in their relationship, he had no real right to stake a claim on her at all. Not helping matters was the fact that since they'd boarded the train, they'd barely spoken to each other.

And now hostility burned inside his chest with an intenseness that surprised him. Last Him could've simply ignored the rival. He'd whisper something ridiculous into Rose's ear to get her attention, to keep it, to make her laugh. He'd hold her hand and sit unnecessarily close.

Well, since _this_ him wasn't allowed to touch her and every joke he'd ever thought up in the last millennia seemed to have fled his brain, the glaring would have to do.

"Mind toning down the Storm a bit there, Doctor?" said Rose suddenly, under her breath. "You're gonna scare away all the pretty ones."

"I'm not- what? Oi!" His hands fluttered. "Shut up."

"My," Rose replied, tilting her head and looking him full in the eyes. "I see you're just as rude as ever."

He scowled. "Am not."

"Are." Rose examined her fingernails. "Amy told me stories. Lots of them."

His eyebrows drew together, and he rubbed at his chin. "What...like what?"

She shrugged, a tiny smirk forming on her lips. "You'll just deny them."

Blinking, the Doctor stared at the seat-back, his thoughts less on defending himself (he couldn't) and more on wondering _when _she and Amy'd possibly had so much time to talk about him.

He heard her snicker. "You're just as easy to wind up as you always were, ya know."

The Doctor immediately felt some of the tension drain from his body at the sight of her smile. "And you are still evil, Rose Tyler."

Her grin widened. "Yep," she replied, tugging on the collar of her sweatshirt, which was continuously slipping off of one shoulder. "Just trying to get you to relax. You're way too tense. It's making me nervous."

Squinting at her, the Doctor briefly wondered if he'd heard her correctly. _'He' _was too tense? "Right," he muttered, and looked out the window. "Like you can talk." His fingers reached up to fidget with his bow-tie, met his throat, and then he remembered; he wasn't wearing it. It, along with the purple jacket and waistcoat, had fallen victim to Rose's concerns about him being recognized should they run into any of her mates from UNIT. So he was clad in the tweed again, his gingham oxford open at the neck.

The way Rose's eyes had lingered on his exposed throat had made it very well worth it.

"What do you mean by that?" he heard her say in an undertone. "I'm fine. I've been fine all morning. I thought we were having a nice day."

"Are we?" he replied, just as quietly, for her ears only. "Because I thought the same thing, earlier. Which is why I don't understand your unhappiness at my coming along with you on this errand."

"I told you why-"

"You didn't."

Rose sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, and for the first time he noticed she _still_ wasn't wearing that bloody glove. "It's because...because I knew it would be like this. If I found you again."

"Like what?"

She sighed again, waving her hands. "Just...so fantastically complicated. Like, I had planned to just move on, yeah? And I didn't feel guilty about that. But now, s'like everything I do makes me feel guilty. Like all of it is wrong, and there isn't a right answer. You know?"

The Doctor just raised his eyebrows slightly, urging her to continue.

"I've already told you why- well, some of why- that I think this shouldn't be happening. So that part of me says it's so, so wrong for me to be here with you, and yet every day we're together, every minute, it only gets...harder."

"Harder?"

"Yeah. Like, now we're traveling, I don't care that it's not in the TARDIS, we're traveling, we're working together, just like we always used to. An' it's too much, it makes me feel..." She trailed off into silence, scratching at the knee of her jeans.

"Like you won't be able to tell me goodbye?"

Rose looked at him, blinking rapidly.

"I see it all the time," he told her, brushing his hair off his forehead with a hand. "In your eyes, even when you're smiling. There's that little bit of dread, which tells me that at some point you still intend to send me on my merry way, and you're terribly afraid to do or say anything which might raise my hopes up a bit too much."

She was silent, picking at the fuzzy fabric of the seat, and didn't deny it.

"Rose, did you not hear anything that I said to you last night? This isn't only your decision to make."

"I heard you," she replied quickly, nodding. "And I thought about it, a lot, and I know you're right. But let's just say that I have a whole new understanding of why you used to...try to protect me the way that you did." Rose twisted slightly, to face him, and laid the side of her head on the seat-back. "But I'm not running, okay? I'd have killed you if you had done that to me."

"Quite right."

Her smile faded from her lips. "But you also need to know the truth," she said, eyes slipping shut. "The whole truth. What happened to him, what I did, why I came back here, all of it. And once you know, this might not be so simple for you, either." Lids lifting, she gazed at him, her eyes glassy. "You might not want to be with me."

In an instant he was leaning toward her. "That's _not_ going to happen. Eh? Do you hear what is in my voice right now?"

"In your voice?" She smiled a little, all pink-cheeks and confusion.

"Yes. It is _certainty_. I understand that you're confused, but I am _certain_. Nothing could change my mind about this. And do you know what that means?"

Rose shook her head, that little smile still on her face.

"It means, Rose Tyler, that my hopes..." he paused, his nose going even closer to hers "...are _irrevocably_ up. So you need to stop worrying about leading me on. Yeah?"

Her smile slowly grew, becoming full and real. "Yeah. Okay."

They held each other's gaze for a few extended seconds. And then in one smooth move Rose righted herself in her chair, tugged the long sleeve of her shirt down over her right hand, and laid it, carefully, over the Doctor's hand, which was resting on his thigh. "This all right?"

Breath hitching, he flipped his hand palm up and curled his fingers tightly around hers, feeling their heat even through the fleece. Both of them relaxed, sinking into their seats for the journey's now all-too-short duration, and the silence between them was warmer than any words could be.

Oh, and if that bloke across the aisle sent anymore lingering glances their way? Well. The Doctor was more than happy to let him look.

* * *

"Please, please tell me you've behaved yourself," said Rose breathlessly, by way of greeting, perching uneasily on the chair opposite him and eyeing the two black-clad soldiers seated on the far end of the room. The Doctor had spent the last twenty-five minutes in this coffee-shop, alone, under strict instructions to "keep quiet" while Rose ran two blocks over to fetch the needed component from UNIT headquarters.

"Yes, yes, of course I did," he claimed, cramming the last of his pastry into his mouth. "Good thing you forced me to come in here, in fact, because going off head-size alone I'd say old Ethan behind the counter over there is a Ranish, and they really shouldn't be allowed to work with the public. Very short tempers, the Ranish." He thought for a second. "Also known for biting."

Staring at him through slitted eyes, Rose was not fooled at all. "You're so not funny." Then her attention was on the two soldiers again, and so he spun in his chair, staring off in the same direction. Rose kicked him under the table.

"Ow," he whinged, facing her again. "That was uncalled for. I suppose you work with those blokes? Don't you want to go over and say hello? Introduce me?" He mimed her girlish tone. "Hello, boys, this is the Doctor- yes, yes, _that_ Doctor, the one and only, the amazing, famous alien, and guess what? He's also my boyfr-"

"That's it," said Rose, chair squeaking against the floor as she slid it back with gusto. "Off we go."

"Now, don't get like that," said the Doctor, grabbing her forearm before she could fully stand. "They don't even see us. You're tired, you need a coffee or something. And look, I got you a chocolate pastry."

"I'd be more comfortable having coffee in a place that's not quite so close to where I work," she replied, reluctantly dragging her chair back to the table. She took the doughnut from the tissue paper. "Oi, there's a bite out of this."

He gave her a winning smile as he got up. "Coffee's on me. You want a large one? Although I guess they call it a 'Venti', which is really quite inaccurate because _Grande-_

"Doctor," Rose interrupted, smiling for real now, "I don't care what size you buy, just as long as you don't try to pay for it with the psychic paper."

Slowly backing away toward the counter, the Doctor maintained eye contact as he slowly fished the brown wallet from his inner coat pocket. He waved it at her, then grinned gleefully when she gifted him with a death glare.

When he eventually returned to the table, Rose had her mobile to her ear, mouthing "Mickey" at him as he handed her the promised drink.

He nodded and sat down, sipping his own tea, when thoughts of his own phone, of all things, flashed into his mind. When he'd returned to the TARDIS to get changed after breakfast, the console's message indicator light had been blinking. He'd considered checking it, as it was rare that someone phoned up his TARDIS, but then decided it was probably UNIT, wondering if he'd gotten anywhere with that rift.

But then as he'd been heading out the phone had actually begun ringing- he'd ignored it, closing the door against its shrilling. But it was odd enough that he'd wondered about it all the way back to the house.

"There wasn't anything strange going on, was there?" he said to Rose abruptly, as soon as she'd rung off. "When you stopped in at UNIT? No panicking, people running about like the world might be ending?"

Rose squinted at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He adjusted his collar. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. Just that someone was trying to ring up the TARDIS. UNIT is one of the few with my phone number. No worries. Likely they just want an update."

"Even so, we should probably get moving," she said, sounding regretful. "Mickey asked if we could pick up a few groceries, so with that and the good hour it will take for travel, it's gonna be nearly four by the time we get back. That won't leave us much time to work on the cannon today. I'm sorry."

"Well," he said, sniffing, "there's nothing else for it. Guess I'm going to have to come again. Hope you don't have plans for next weekend."

She smiled at him as she picked up her coffee cup from the table and adjusted its cardboard sleeve. "I do now."

They headed out, respective caffeinated beverages in their hands, onto the busy New York City pavement, weaving through throngs of pedestrians under the shadows of skyscrapers, yellow cabs brightening the streets with their colour and noise. It was a bit too reminiscent of the last time he'd walked these streets, but with a tall, ginger girl at his side. The Doctor cringed a little, remembering that terrible day all too vividly.

"You alright?" Rose was concerned, looking up at him as she gamely kept pace with his longer legs.

"This is where I lost Amy and Rory," he admitted, after a beat. "I haven't been back since. Never meant to come again, to be honest."

"Oh," she breathed, squeezing his arm in sympathy. "I'm sorry. You should have told me."

He gave her a small smile. "What, and give you another reason to leave me with Mickey? No ta. I'm all right. Besides, I'd...I'd go back to Krop Tor if I was going with you."

Rose bumped him with her shoulder. "So where are you off to this week?" she asked, as they navigated an intersection.

"Off to?"

"You know, where are you traveling? Like, are you going to Felspoon, or ancient Mesopotamia? Maybe you're off to stop an uprising on Raxacoricofallipatorius."

"Oi, now you're just showing off."

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, and guided him around a corner. "The shop is down this street. And you're just avoiding my question. Please tell me you aren't thinking of hopping straight to next Saturday."

The Doctor said nothing, neatly stepping over cracks in the pavement, mostly because hopping straight to next Saturday was exactly what he meant to do.

"What about your companion?" Rose persisted, bells ringing over their heads as they stepped into a corner bodega. "She'll notice if you don't stop for her, won't she?"

He shrugged, jamming his hands in his pockets. Rose, after shaking her head at him, took up a red plastic shopping basket and slid it over her arm. The Doctor followed her into an aisle.

Clara would notice, that was true. But, it was only one week. She'd be fine. She might worry a bit and she'd probably be angry, but that was nothing compared to the list of cons he'd thought up _against_ fetching her as usual.

Con number one: Clara was perceptive. Two: being perceptive, she would notice that he was preoccupied, and she would ask him about it. Three: when he didn't explain, she would try to figure him out, and there was always the chance that she just might do it. Four (and this was the biggest con of all): he would have to stay away from Rose, maybe for days. His whole being rebelled against the very idea. Just the hours he'd spent alone in his TARDIS last night while she slept were torturous enough. How could he be with Clara, entertain Clara, try to be _normal_ around Clara, when his every current thought was all _Rose Rose Rose_?

"How much food does Mickey need?" he asked, taking the heavy, over-filled basket from Rose. "Blimey."

"Some of this is for you," she informed him. "To start stocking your kitchen properly."

The Doctor eyed the basket's contents critically, not much liking anything he saw, save a bunch of bananas that were piled on top. They passed back through the snack aisle on their way to the register, and Rose smacked his hand away from a box of cookies.

With a huff, he left it, trailing after her. Plunking the basket down on the counter, he stared out through the glass doors while she paid. Humans upon humans, oodles of them, went hurrying past, one after another. All of them more or less the same. And during the past six months, while he'd flitted aimlessly about as usual, Rose had been here, living amongst them.

As his pink and yellow girl handed him a couple of plastic bags, his hearts clenched as he realized how close he'd come to never finding her. If it weren't for his wonderful, wise, interfering ship, Rose could lived out her life in this blasted city and he'd have been none the wiser.

The mere thought of it made him want to never let her out of his sight again.

* * *

"Look in that one," she said, the minute they settled into their seats on the train, shopping bags piled all around their feet. He reached into the bag that she'd indicated, retrieving a small rolled bundle of soft white cotton.

The Doctor laughed once he got it unfurled. "'I Heart New York'?" he asked, holding the tee-shirt up against his chest. "This is for me?"

"Yep. Thought maybe, you know, you should have some good memories of this city, instead of just sad ones."

With a slow inhale, he smiled at her. Rose curled her covered hand around his again and squeezed it tight.

That ride home was the most fleeting thirty-nine minutes he'd ever spent in his life.

* * *

**I know I told some of you that the Doctor would find out about Clara's kidnapping in this chapter, but my muse said "NOPE, 6000 words of fluff" so I had to cut it off here. Plot furtherance will be coming up next, for those who like that sort of thing. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Beta-read by the fantastic YouCleverBoys. :)**

* * *

"Martha?" called Rose, as she and the Doctor walked into a kitchen that was just as notably empty as the rest of the house. She set her grocery bags down on a countertop and looked at him. "What's the deal? They should be home, yeah?"

Shrugging, the Doctor tossed his own bags next to hers. "Maybe something came up."

"But Mickey had us pick up this food so they wouldn't have to run out." Rose frowned, gnawing on her thumbnail, and leaned back against a cabinet. "It's weird."

The Doctor went and stood in front of her, chin tucked, and smiled down at her like a loon. "Well, what do you suggest we do about it, Rose Tyler? Organize a search party?" He prodded at her shoe with his own. "Start stapling up the missing person's posters?"

She fought a smile, but it broke free anyway. "You're daft."

"I know."

Daft was an understatement. He was practically buzzing with pent-up energy, his head so full of her there wasn't space for much else. One little trip with Rose Tyler, one meager hour of entwined hands, and the Doctor was hard pressed to remember when he'd last felt so bloody brilliant. The last thing anyone would catch him complaining about was an unexpected chance to be properly alone with her.

Glancing down, he eyed her hand, dangling so close to his, only the ends of her fingers poking out of the over-long sleeve's ratty edge. Boldly, he brushed the side of his pinky against her wrist, the gesture soft and then deliberate, asking permission. Her smile gave it, and then her hand was back where he wanted it, tucked into his own.

"Suppose you're all eager to get to work, now that we've got this thing?" Rose rooted in her jeans pocket with her free hand, sounding adorably flustered, and then held out the procured antenna, a small, silvery, tube-shaped object.

He took it, humming non-committally, and readjusted his grip on her hand. 'Getting to work' was, in truth, quite low on his list of priorities right now. What he'd confessed on the train was true- his hopes for them had lodged somewhere in the heavens, and though his rational side was sounding a warning (_too quick, don't rush_) it was rapidly being drowned out by an ever-surging flood of _want_.

Loving Rose and pursuing her had shown itself to be quite a different beast than loving Rose from afar. His own reactions felt unpredictable, and were far, far harder to tame. Especially now that Rose had promised to open up about her past and include him in her choices, his hearts were convinced that his impossible dream was a hairsbreadth from becoming truth. All he wanted to do was get on with it. To get the last issues standing between them settled, to have her officially back in his life.

To have her officially _his_.

As he was about to suggest a retreat to the lounge, motion outside the window caught his eye. The Doctor raised up on his toes for a better look, and couldn't help a sigh of profound disappointment when he realized what it was. "Well, Rose, worry no more, because I've just found our missing Smiths." He nodded toward the window. "And they've got company."

Tugging him along, Rose went to peer out over the sink, her lips going tight. "God, why couldn't Mick have warned me that they were having people over?"

"Who are they?" The Doctor could make out four adult figures at the very back of the garden. Mickey was one of them; he and a shorter man were tossing a brown, oblong ball back and forth.

"And Kyle, of all people?" Rose went on, somewhat answering his question though she seemed not to have heard him. "Why is he here? Mickey doesn't even like him. Nobody does." Rose's eyes met the Doctor's, a deep line between her brows. "So now what? How are we supposed to sneak past them to the TARDIS so we can get at least a little work done today?"

He scratched at his ear. "Can't we just say hello and then go on by?" He failed to see why she was upset about it. To him, the Smith's having company just meant that Martha and Mickey wouldn't be able to follow them out to the TARDIS.

Cocking her head, Rose gave him a look which implied that he was very, very thick. "You mean into the _woods_?"

"Lots of people like to traipse through the woods. It's a nice day. Let them think we're just going for a walk."

Rose bit her bottom lip, looking reluctant. A few seconds went by, then it dawned on him. "You're scared to introduce me!"

Her lips pursed, a tiny bit. "No, not 'scared'. Just...I dunno."

"Oi, I can be a normal bloke," he argued, petulant.

Rose raised her brows, fiddling with an earring. "And I have years of evidence that says otherwise. But...s'not that, not really." Her gaze slid down to their linked hands. "Matt -he's the one sitting out there, on the bench- he's good friends with Mick but he's also head of my team, at UNIT, so I see him quite a lot. And he..."

"Yes?"

"I'm pretty sure he fancies me."

And with that, every bit of sunshine was blotted by clouds. "Well, of course he does."

Jaw going tight, the Doctor's eyes drifted to the tiny antenna in his free hand and he ran his thumb over it, back and forth. Perhaps there was some way they could sneak out to the TARDIS after all. Sharing her with friends was one thing, but he'd already had more than his daily dose of watching some other bloke _look_ at her.

"C'mon," said Rose, giving his fingers a few quick squeezes, as if to remind him just whose hand it was she was holding. "Did I say I fancy him back? I just mean that it'll be _awkward_. He's great, really kind and lovely, and I don't want to rub anything in his face. But he's bound to read into you an' me, especially if we go off together."

The Doctor gazed into her brown eyes, his own beginning to sparkle as he grasped her meaning. "Okay," he said, trailing a finger over his chin, "I think I get it. Blimey. Never thought this would happen." Puffing his cheeks, he exhaled toward the ceiling.

"'This?' What're you on about now?"

At Rose's puzzled look he grinned at her, outright. "Finally, _I'm_ your new pretty boy. Brilliant."

Rose tipped her head back, and then snorted out a laugh. Dropping his hand, she took him by the upper arm, and steered him toward the back door. "Oh, shut it. Let's just get this over with, okay? And be nice!"

The swinging screen-door creaked as they pushed through it into the late afternoon sun, cool wind ruffling their hair. Martha, seated down at the fire-pit, was the first to spot them and she waved enthusiastically, shielding her eyes from the sun. One of the two strangers, a thin young man with wavy dark hair, sitting on the log bench opposite Martha, waved too, albeit hesitantly, after a bewildered look at the Doctor.

The other unknown bloke, whose stocky build and small, glittering eyes made him somewhat resemble a pitbull, paid them no mind at all, as he was too busy yelling at Mickey. "Back up!" he shouted, two or three times, finally flinging the ball his way. The Doctor paused, watching the ball's tight spin as it cut cleanly through the air. It fell a bit short and Mickey ran forward, deftly snatching it just before it hit the ground.

"Ooh, close one!" called Rose to him across the yard. Mickey gave her a thumbs up, before heaving back and returning the ball to his friend.

Charlie was there too, digging a stick into the dirt at his mother's feet, and went running to Rose as soon as he heard her voice. The Doctor smiled as she scooped the little boy into a hug, settling him on her hip as they made their way to the two seated at the fire-pit.

"Kyle brought us a load of firewood," said Martha, launching into an immediate explanation. "His sister had a tree cut down last week."

"Ah," replied Rose, setting the wriggly Charlie down and looking toward the stacks of freshly cut wood, piled at the tree line's edge. "Hi, Matt."

"I came as a buffer," the skinny American told her, glancing in a theatric fashion across the lawn to the shorter, stocky man. "Though I must say, Kyle's in a pretty good mood today. Hasn't made any death threats yet." Rose snickered and the man flashed her a warm, easy grin, one that spoke of things like long familiarity and inside jokes. A swell of jealousy had the Doctor shifting forward, until his left bicep brushed the back of Rose's shoulder. He rejoiced inwardly when the other bloke's smile went tight at the corners.

"Matt," said Rose, after the Doctor nudged her. "I'd like you to meet-"

"John Smith," interjected the Doctor, sticking a hand out. He straightened as the other man stood to meet him, and did _not_ rejoice to discover himself the shorter of the two.

"Matt Barclay." His handshake was firm without being overbearing, and he studied the Doctor, as if they'd possibly met before. "So, you're another Smith? You Mickey's long-lost brother or something?" He tossed a grin at Mickey, who had just come up alongside them with the other man in tow.

"He wishes," replied Mickey, as the Doctor was trying to determine if Barclay was joking or simply obtuse. "He's only here because-"

"John's an old friend of ours," Martha supplied hurriedly. "He, um, works for UNIT too, back in London. He's visiting."

"Another U.N.I.T. Brit, huh?" said Pitbull-man without bothering to introduce himself, though his accent told the Doctor he was Brooklyn born and raised. "That mean you're as much of an alien-worshipper as these other three are?"

"Knock it off, Kyle," spat Rose immediately, Martha and Mickey chorusing similar reproofs while the Doctor simply blinked at the man. "For the hundredth time, none of us wanna hear it."

"I tell ya, that sort of attitude's why the UK has ten times the alien activity the US does," he continued, either fantastically brave or too stupid to be intimidated by Rose's flared nostrils. "You people let 'em get away with anything. Don't be surprised if you end up with an alien for your next Prime Minister."

"No chance," replied the Doctor smoothly, folding his arms across his chest. "Not again, anyway."

Kyle looked as if he didn't appreciate any such joke. "And of course you don't play football either."

The Doctor brightened. "Actually, I'm quite good at football-"

"Riiiiight," said Mickey, cutting him off. "Besides, he means American football." He passed the ball back and forth between his hands. "Kyle here thinks he's gonna be the next wide receiver for the New York Jets." He smirked. "Or at least he would do, if he could get some practice in, but apparently nobody can throw him any proper passes."

"Shut up, Smith. Just because you don't enjoy a challenge doesn't mean I don't. Although Barclay over here won't even try."

Annoyance seeped through Barclay's cheery facade. "Only because I hear enough of your yelling at work, Daniels."

"So this is a game that consists of...throwing, primarily?" asked the Doctor, nipping the ball away from Mickey, who glared at him before nodding. "Why is this called a _foot_ball, then?"

Kyle stared at him in disgust. "Are you serious?"

The Doctor held the ball up, inspecting it for a moment before replying. "So you don't know either, eh? Perhaps it's just another one of those weird, human-y things that just make no sense, like- ow!" He looked at Rose, whose (surprisingly sharp) elbow had just jabbed his ribs. "What?"

"We should go, yeah?" Rose gave him a meaningful look. "John and I planned on takin' a bit of a walk before it gets too dark," she said, addressing Martha more than anyone else. "We'll see ya later."

Ignoring her tug on his coat sleeve and Barclay's narrowed eyes, the Doctor continued to study the football, fitting one of its smaller ends into his hands. "How far is a 'proper pass'?"

"A good fifty yards," Kyle condescended to reply. "Sometimes they're sixty yards or more. Oh, and a yard, if you're wondering, is slightly less than a meter."

"Lord, he knows that, Daniels," defended Rose, her hand pressing on the Doctor's arm just above his elbow, hard, as if she were trying to physically move him. "No need to be rude. It's just a stupid game."

For the first time, the man's perpetually stubborn expression shifted into outright irritation. "You know what's really stupid, Prentice? That move of yours last week, when you-"

"Projectile motion," interrupted the Doctor, loud, trying to keep the edge of anger from his voice. "The physics of a football pass. The ball follows a parabolic path; vertical movement influenced by the force of gravity. Of course wind speed and direction, as well at the football's rotation and velocity, also factor in." Wetting a finger, he held it up, testing the wind.

"All the brains in the world aren't gonna get that ball from one end of the field to the other if you don't have the brawn to pull it off."

"All right. Sixty yards. Go on, then." The Doctor made a little shooing motion with his fingers.

The man stared at him incredulously for a moment, then snorted. "Yeah, whatever you say, buddy," he said, trotting off. "This should be good."

"Don't," said Rose and Martha, in unison. "Let's just go," Rose went on.

"Kyle's arrogant enough as it is," added Martha.

"Farther," called the Doctor, hand cupped to the side of his mouth. "That's only 58.5 yards."

Kyle shook his head and moved back a few paces.

The Doctor leaned back, extending his arm just so, and with a slight twist of his upper body, sent the football sailing in a perfect spiral. It lifted, hung, and then arched back down, finally connecting with the middle of Daniels' chest with such force that he stumbled backward.

A split second later, Martha and Mickey whooped, their fists in the air. Barclay stared at him, wide-eyed. Rose was strangely silent.

"See," he said to Mickey, darting an uneasy glance Rose's way. "I told you I was good at football. Even, apparently, the...footless sort."

"Nice one, Boss!" The Doctor grinned at Mickey, slapping his hand as the two of them watched Kyle cross back over the neighbor's lawn.

Then the Doctor turned his grin on Rose, though it faltered a bit when he found her looking less than impressed. "Ready for our walk?" he asked, tugging his ear.

"Are _you_?" Rose crossed her arms. "Cause I can sit here and chat with Mar if you're not done playing."

Were they having a spat now? He wasn't sure. "I'm...done?"

With a smile and a "see ya later" for everyone else, Rose took off for the path in the woods without bothering to check if he was following.

"Did I...do something wrong?" the Doctor ventured, once the thick swatch of trees hid them from the rest of the group.

Relaxing her folded arms, Rose sighed. "You just couldn't let the football thing go, could you?"

He shrugged, kicking up matted leaves with his boot-toe. "Why does it matter? Bloke had it coming. I...I didn't like him speaking to you like that."

"I'm a big girl, Doctor, and I don't care what people like him say. Thing is, you know that humans...typically, they can't do things, throw a football like that, without any practice. So now they're _wondering_ about you. They were gonna be curious enough already, just because you were new, and with me. Anyway. Why couldn't you have just pretended to be, I dunno, a tiny bit boring, for once?"

He wrinkled up his nose, and gave her an apologetic look.

"Don't know why I'm surprised," she went on, her tone softening. "_He _could never do it either. Torchwood- they were so uptight about aliens, in that world. Anyway, he knew that, and my dad had who knows how many chats with him about it, and you know what he did his first day on the job? Disappeared from a meeting to be found hours later in the sub-basement, having taken it upon himself to free nearly half of our off-world detainees."

The Doctor chuckled. "Sounds like me."

Just ahead, the blue of the TARDIS was bright amongst the shadows, and the Doctor snapped his fingers. As the door creaked open, Rose giggled and he smiled, glad she at least appreciated that particular trick. "He tried for years to get our TARDIS to do that, but she won't. Too tetchy, I guess."

"She does mellow as she ages." The Doctor pushed the door open wide, allowing Rose to enter his ship ahead of him, mind whirring. Her TARDIS was tetchy? Perhaps even more difficult to pilot than his own? Ever since he found her at Martha and Mickey's he had wondered why she was living there, why she had given up traveling. He kept forgetting to ask.

Only Rose was already at the work-table on the opposite side of the room, and it didn't feel right to have a shouted conversation about it. He made his way to the side computer panel that he'd reconfigured to be base transceiver, and fished the little antenna out of his pocket. It shouldn't take him much time to install it. Then he could join her in piecing together the remote relay, and they could begin to talk properly.

As he worked, hands full of coloured wires, his mind's eye was full of ideas for later tonight- shared laughter while he cooked dinner, them settling down in the library or the media room, snug in one of the cushy sofas. It would be the perfect setting for a long, air-clearing conversation, quiet and intimate and uninterrupted. The only flaw in his plan was that Rose might worry about what the visitors would think if they didn't return. But surely he could figure out some way around it.

"Here it is!" Rose called after a bit, and he turned around to find her waving her hand around, finally wearing that little white glove on it. "Thought I lost this."

"And here I thought you were just being Rose Tyler stubborn," he replied, quickly replacing a metal panel on the computer.

As Rose poked her tongue out at him he felt his blood instantly heat, and _Rassilon_, it was a good thing she was all the way over on the other side of the sodding room. Made him almost rethink his plans for the snug-sofa-seating.

A small, flashing light on the console caught his attention, and he sucked in a breath. "Oh, that's right. I forgot to check the message."

Tilting her head, Rose followed his gaze. "Is that what that is? S'different on my console. I thought it was just an indicator light. It was blinking all day yesterday. You didn't ever notice it?"

"No," he replied, as he reached it, and pulled the corded phone receiver out from a small indentation underneath the console's curve. "I must have been...distracted, I suppose."

"Distracted?" Her tone was low, teasing. "You? Never."

The Doctor pretended offense as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Quiet," he chided her, putting a finger over his lips and trying his best to listen.

There were six low beeps, and his smile slowly faded. He had six messages? Could that be right?

_"Doctor,"_ came a woman's voice as the first one began playing. _"Kate Stewart here. Wednesday, tenth of October." _

What he heard next caught him entirely off-guard. Clara, gone missing? Taken? Phone still to his ear, he backed up and lowered himself onto a jump-seat, rubbing at a sore spot between his brows as he absorbed every last detail. Rose settled beside him, watching him with deep concern on her face, questions in her eyes. He shook his head, indicating with a hand for her to wait.

The next message began to play- Kate again, next day, more of the same. As was the next message, and the next. Until-

_"Doctor!" _He bolted upright as Clara's voice came through the receiver. _"I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but for god's sake, would you please answer your bloody phone! Anyway, I'm fine...safe, and all that, but you might not be, if you don't get this message. Don't go to the house, okay? I'm not there, and...well, I'll explain it all when I see you. Please ring my mobile and I'll tell you where to come get me."_

Slowly, he took the phone from his ear, eyes finding a troubled Rose. "Clara was abducted."

Her mouth went slack and he rushed to clarify. "_Was. _She's safe now, no thanks to me. That's all I know. Clara...probably she escaped on her own or something. She's a clever girl."

"But why? Why would someone...take her?"

He sighed, cradling the phone in his hands. "Because of her connection to me, apparently. Her abductors called UNIT same time every day, threatening her life if I didn't show up." Guilt had him on his feet and, shoulders hunched, he paced in a short path in front of her. "Six messages, Rose. Six since Wednesday, and I didn't get them till now. What if those people had followed through, and, and-"

"They didn't," said Rose, planting herself in his path. "Clara's fine. And anyway, they wouldn't have hurt her, you know that. Not without getting what they wanted from you. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

Eyes tracking the pulsing light of the Time Rotor, the Doctor's thoughts drifted, his curiosity not at all stirred by her last question. Whatever it was that this mysterious 'they' desired to obtain from him -be it revenge, power, his cold corpse on a slab- it mattered not, and they weren't much likely to get it anyway. But using one of his companions to try and get at him? _That_ had fury beginning a slow simmer under his skin, and as his eyes met Rose's again, a new worry added itself to his disquiet. What if Clara was not the only friend of his that they knew about?

His thoughts must have bled onto his face because understanding suddenly crossed Rose's, and she took hold of his wrist. "Don't start worrying about me, Doctor. As far as this world knows, Rose Tyler is dead, remember?"

"Right, but you're _not_ dead, you're living in the same house as two of my old friends."

"Friends who are also trained soldiers, as am I. We can take care of ourselves." Ignoring his dubious expression, she went on. "Besides, if they abducted your current companion, it's not likely that they have the slightest idea of any past ones. In fact, if I were to guess, knowing you, Clara herself probably believes she's the only friend you've ever had."

The Doctor scowled, the tiniest bit, feeling like he was entitled to it because he had just mentioned Rose (well, Rose's abstract existence in his past, but it still counted) to Clara, quite recently. Yet her actual point was good- the list of humans who even knew of his existence was a short one, and spread across centuries. And out of them, most would have only met whichever friend or two he currently had tagging along, with the exception of those who worked for-

"UNIT," he said, going rigid as his mind offered up the image of a slightly built man, trembling hands wrapped around a cold, black revolver. Rapidly thinking back through the recent encounter, he emerged with a name. "Jenkins. Stuart Jenkins. He was _UNIT_." He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Stupid!"

"Who?"

"A man who works for UNIT, their London division," he told her, pacing again, wringing his hands. "Few weeks back, he found me by hacking their system. Came after me with a gun. All this time I've thought it meant nothing, that he was just a grieving man who made a bad decision. But somebody put him up to it. Had to have. He was so scared, I could tell he didn't want-"

"Slow down, Doctor, you've lost me."

"His wife died," he explained softly, going to her. "And...he wanted me to change it. He didn't understand."

"Oh," she replied, voice soft with sympathy.

"Anyway," he went on, not wanting her to have to dwell on such a subject, "it makes sense that the abductors would include a person with a UNIT ties. I have to find out who these people are, Rose. Because if they have intelligence from UNIT, then potentially, anyone associated with me could be in danger."

Rose knew exactly what he was once again hinting at. "I'll warn Mickey and Martha, okay? But we will be fine. What do you expect, Doctor? That we request security detail from the very organization we work for? Or do you want us to move onto the TARDIS until this is resolved?"

"Well," he said, playing with a coat button, "maybe not Mickey."

Rose chuckled, and then schooled her features into a stern look. "What I want to hear is how you're gonna stay safe."

He spluttered. "Me? I'm the one who needs to put a stop to this."

Rose's hands went to her hips. "Yes, yes, I get that, but you're also the one they're actually after! Just...I know you, all right? I know how reckless you can be sometimes. So don't go traipsing about London like you always do, assuming you're going unrecognized. Believing that the people after you are stupid, other things like that. Yeah?"

"Fine," he replied, slumping down on the jump-seat, just then realizing that the corded phone was still clutched in one hand. He looked at it, then back up at Rose. "Suppose if I want to find out if I'm right about all this, I'd best go after Clara," he said, regret heavy in his voice as he realized he'd probably have to do so immediately. He'd built up rainbow expectations for this evening with Rose, and it was almost painful to think of giving it up. Doubly painful, to know that Rose would now likely spend it with someone else. That...that Matt bloke, with his tallness and his too-white smile and his _'fancying'_, who overall reminded the Doctor far too much of his last self for comfort.

"Right," replied Rose, and he was immensely gratified to see that she looked every bit as disappointed as he felt. "Suppose I'll just-" She gestured with her thumb toward the door.

"You could stay." The words escaped him before he could think.

A funny look crossed her face, before she covered over it with a smile. "C'mon, Doctor, think of your friend. She's just been kidnapped. Best not add another shock to the mix, yeah?"

He didn't respond, turning the phone over in his hands as she made her way to the door. "See you Saturday?" she asked, hand on the knob.

"Bright and early. No sleeping late for you, Rose Tyler."

"Oh," she said, after she stepped out, peering back through the doorway. "You forgot your groceries in the house."

With a smirk, he shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a single banana, then a second and a third. "Ha, got 'em right here. Never say I don't plan ahead."

"When did you do that?"

"On the train, right before disembarking. But even so, there were still too many bags, so I couldn't-" Eyes widening, he cut himself off, realizing what he'd nearly admitted out loud.

"Couldn't what?" The set of her jaw told him there was no way he was getting away with it.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, wincing with embarrassment. "Couldn't keep on holding your hand."

Rose laughed, a pretty, surprised sound. "Was a pity, that."

Then the door creaked shut and she was gone. The Doctor marched himself to the console, ignoring the strong inclination to wallow. He was sorry for what happened to Clara, but she was safe now, and besides, she'd been through scarier situations because of him. Selfish as it was, he was more concerned with how long this annoyance would take to resolve, so he'd be able to focus his attention where he wanted it- on him and Rose.

The TARDIS slipped into the vortex, and he dialed Clara's mobile.

* * *

"You don't know how glad I am to finally have access to the wardrobe room," said Clara, dumping her knapsack on one of the jump-seats. "A soldier from UNIT fetched a few things from the house for me, while I was staying in the hotel, and he didn't pack any jumpers- goodness, have you had monkeys in here?" She picked up a banana from the pile he'd tossed on the seat.

"Never mind those, you were telling me why he let you go?"

"I don't think he ever wanted part of it in the first place. I got the impression that Stuart was...in way over his head, I suppose. I fear for him if any of the others find out how I got free."

After a lengthy chat with Kate Stewart and a few other UNIT higher-ups, the Doctor and Clara had returned to the vortex. He, for once, had been quite happy to find them a few steps ahead of him- with the intel from Clara, Jenkins' home had already been searched (abandoned, no surprise there), and secret security detail had been placed on the homes of both Sarah Jane and Donna. Artie and Angie's father had decided this would be a good time for their family to visit his sister in Scotland.

Maybe UNIT would track the abductors down for him too, and he could get on with-

"...so this will be sort of nice," he heard Clara saying. "Like a trial run."

"Sorry, what? Must've spaced out there, for a bit. This will be a trial run for what?"

Clara gave him a look, with those big eyes of hers. "For traveling with you full-time. You didn't hear me say that? I've been thinking about it for a while now; giving up nannying. And since I can't exactly go home now anyway, not until this is all resolved, it will be like a nice trial run."

The Doctor froze a bit, willing his face to show some semblance of happiness. Indeed, at one time this news would have thrilled him; he'd long missed having people live onboard his TARDIS. But now, he was nothing but dismayed.

"This why you weren't answering your phone?" asked Clara, thankfully distracted by the items on the table where he and Rose had been assembling the cannon. "Looks like you've been busy. What is all this stuff?"

"Oh, just a portable teleport," he said, the lie automatic. But really, wasn't he just digging himself a deeper hole to climb out of later on? Clara had nowhere else to go, not until this group of nasties was off the streets. And unless that happened within the next few days, Clara would still be onboard his TARDIS when he returned to see Rose.

He went to the console, fiddling with levers, pretending to be busy as he considered it. Clara, at least, knew of Rose's existence. A bit. Unlike Amy. He cringed as he remembered _her_ reaction, her hurt and anger, at unexpectedly meeting his long-lost love.

_"Now get over here, you moron, and you better make yourself mighty comfortable, because you have a helluva lot of explaining to do."_

There was no way Clara's response would be that dramatic, he decided.

Far more concerning would be Rose's reaction. Would meeting his companion make her draw away from him again, even if he made certain that they had some privacy? Would she be jealous? Suddenly he smiled to himself, imagining Rose becoming a bit...possessive.

"What's this?" He looked over to find Clara had wandered back to the jump-seat, and was holding a bundle of soft white fabric in her hands. _The tee-shirt. _His eyes darted about, calculating the distance between her and him, and his heart sank as he realized there was no way he could prevent her getting it unfolded. Why had he taken that blasted thing out of his pocket in the first place?

"I Love New York?" Clara read, confused. When she looked up at him, her eyes were brimming with hurt. "You...you went to New York without me?"

"That's..." he hesitated, hands flailing, like they were trying to pull words from the air. "That's for you. It was meant to be a surprise."

She blinked, frowning, still confused. "As in...you're taking me on a surprise trip to New York?"

He nodded, and watched as Clara's wounded expression grew into one of delight. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, flying across the console room to throw her arms around him.

Lamely, he patted her on the back. "Yes, yes. New York, here we come."

Again.

* * *

**Think Clara and Rose's first meeting will go according to the Doctor's expectations? :) **


	15. Chapter 15

**So sorry this took so long. Writing has been especially difficult lately, for some reason. Anyway, much thanks to YouCleverBoys, my dear friend and awesome beta (if anyone thinks the Doctor is being too inconsiderate of Clara here, send her a message and she'll happily agree with you LOL) and also to Ashlanielle, who rescued me, once again, when I was stuck. :)**

* * *

Chapter 15

"I'm gonna kill him," Rose fumed to Mickey, as she snagged him from the crowd of weary soldiers and hauled him off to the side of the corridor. "Or at least I would, I _so_ would, if I thought there was even the slightest chance that he'd regenerate into somebody _less bloody stupid."_

Mickey cleared his throat, lips twitching like he wanted to laugh. Rose dared him with narrowed eyes.

With a cough, he shifted closer to the wall, eyes tracking people passing by. "Yeah, Doc sure got everybody's knickers in a twist, didn't he? Though you gotta admit, Rose, it wasn't really his fault. Can you imagine if the London division had a major flip out like this, assuming there was an alien invasion every time the TARDIS was spotted round town? Pretty much all they'd ever _do_."

"That's not why I'm upset," huffed Rose, with an exaggerated shake of her head.

"Oh. Is it because he got us stuck here till-" he snuck a look at his watch- "wow, I guess it is nearly midnight. But I hafta tell ya Rose, when major things like this come up you've got to expect-"

"Oh my god, I don't care about the bloody overtime either!" With a quick glance round, Rose tugged Mickey closer by a fistful of his shirt, so as not to be overheard. "Are you forgetting that there are people after him? Bad people, of which, at _least_ one was from inside UNIT, so it's reasonable to suspect there are likely more."

"But we don't-"

"He promises to be careful," she went on, having hardly taken a breath, "and then what's the next thing I hear? That he's got the TARDIS parked in an alley smack in the middle of Manhattan and the higher-ups here are freaking out, dispatching practically every soldier on hand to try and figure out what's going on!"

Mickey shushed her and Rose exhaled, trying to lower her voice. "Anyway, he might as well have just hired a sky-writer to draw a giant arrow and write "Stupid Time Lord Right Down Here"!

Doing a terrible job of hiding his smile, Mickey crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall. "Huh. So you're worried about him, then."

"Course I am," she replied, kicking lightly at his shin and scowling. But, point was, she didn't _want_ to be worried. After they'd parted (hardly a day ago), Rose had sworn not to moon over him while he was gone, like some dizzy teenager. Time apart was a chance to step back, gain some perspective, and think things through logically. Work was a perfect distraction. So what's the next thing he does? Shows up in town. Today, Rose could barely turn around without hearing his name.

She wouldn't put it past him to have orchestrated this whole thing on purpose, just to keep her attention. The tosser.

"Way I see it," Mickey was saying, "if you'd only gone with him yesterday when he asked you to then he would never have-"

An arm was suddenly slung around each of their shoulders, and a grinning face, topped by a shock of unruly, curly hair, poked into their private little bubble. "Hey, you two! Telling secrets? I want in."

Matt was in high-spirits, his eyes sparkling and bright, and Rose carefully tucked away her dismay. There went her plan for avoiding him today. It had been going so well, too.

"Quite the day, wasn't it?" he went on animatedly, taking his arms off them and dropping his bag between his boots, like he meant to stay awhile.

"Quite the false alarm, you mean," said Mickey, smirking knowingly.

"Who cares?" Matt's enthusiasm was unabated. "The Doctor was here, in New York! How cool is that?"

Rolling his eyes, Mickey leaned over to Rose. "Barclay's head of his fan club, in case you didn't know. Think that's the only reason he likes me."

"Ha ha," said Matt, with genuine hurt in his voice. "Like I'm the only person around this place who-"

Mickey snickered. "Calm down. You know I'm just giving you crap."

"Oh yeah, well, you know the guy, so you can be all cool." He shifted his tall body and focused his gaze on Rose. "But you get it, don't you, Rose? Weren't you hoping that we'd be the team assigned to stakeout his space-ship?"

"I don't know," said Rose casually, trying to keep her face from betraying her as his query conjured up a horrifying vision- Matt at the TARDIS with the last of the Time Lords, aka Rose's "friend" from the day before. She played with her coat zipper. "I talked to Megan Foster, and she said he was actually pretty rude to them when he finally showed up. Asked why UNIT had nothing better to do than bother him with another one of their stupid, pointless, military overreactions."

"Well, he's not wrong," replied Matt with a laugh.

"True, but as far as he knew, Foster and Busby were the only people we had on him today," inserted Mickey. "Good thing they dispatched the rest of us out in plain-clothes, so it was at least somewhat discreet. I don't even want to know what he would've done had he known our people were swarming all over the city."

"Seriously?" said Matt, sounding fascinated. "Could it have gotten bad? Like, what does he do when-"

"No," Mickey countered, "I didn't mean it like that. He would've been ticked, yeah, but he'd never do anything besides yell. And trust me, that's scary enough. Anyway, mates," he said, shoving a hand in his pocket for his mobile, and when his eyes met Rose's for a split second she knew they both desired the same thing- a way out of this discussion. "Fun as this has been, I should really go."

"What if _you_ had run into the Doctor today?" Matt asked, as if he hadn't heard Mickey at all. "You've said you haven't seen him for years and years. So how weird would that've been?"

"Um, pretty awkward, probably." Mickey's snappy comeback skills seemed to be failing him, and Rose bit her lip. All these questions were making her stomach churn, and she didn't have the energy to force the expected reactions. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Oh, and tell off the Doctor, she thought, as her annoyance with him bubbled up all over again. Even this stupid conversation was all his fault.

"Right," pressed Matt, "because he's changed faces and all that since you knew him, hasn't he? I heard the bow-tie thing was confirmed as accurate, by the way."

"Wouldn't it be awkward for anybody?" Rose jumped in. "After not seeing a person for so long? You don't know what to say, how to act. Especially if you knew that the person had been avoiding you."

"Yeah, I guess," said Matt. He sounded a bit disappointed, like he'd been hoping to hear that friendship with the Time Lord involved mandatory mind-melds or something. "Anyway, what I keep hearing over and over is how his latest female companion is totally knock-out gorgeous. Of course, rumour says that they're all like that, that it's practically a pre-requisite for traveling with him. Does kind of make a guy wonder-"

"Oi," Mickey cut in, frowning. "My wife was one of those women, remember?"

"Sorry, sorry." Matt held up his hands. "I'm totally kidding. I mean, the guy's an alien, after all. If he considers himself of a higher species he probably never looks twice at human women anyway, there're probably laws against..." He trailed off at the sight of Mickey's glare. "I'll shut up now."

"Might be best," agreed Mickey, but it was already too late. Now Rose had a third reason to be frustrated with the Doctor, irrational as it was. A tiny part of her wished to dislike Clara too, but that wasn't fair. His companion couldn't be blamed for being born blessed in the looks department. Besides, despite what any rumours might claim, the Doctor didn't choose his friends based on such a superficial thing.

However...that didn't mean he was oblivious. Rose alone knew, quite well, that the Time Lord was far more a man (a bloke, even) than anyone gave him credit for.

Just then Mickey's phone buzzed in his hand, rescuing them. "Martha's wondering what's going on," he said, tapping out a message on the touchscreen. "I really gotta go. See ya, Barclay."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Matt," echoed Rose, attempting to slink away along with Mickey. But the corridor was now empty enough that she couldn't pretend not to hear Matt when he hastily spoke her name.

"Rose, wait a sec." His hand was on her elbow. "I just need to ask you quick- are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Rose faced him but let her gaze fall to her boots, and she shifted her bag to her other shoulder.

"I don't know. Last night, you didn't come out to join the rest of us at the bonfire, even after your friend left, and today you've been avoiding me. You can barely make eye-contact with me even now."

"I'm sorry, I'm just...I guess-" Rose sighed. "I don't know."

Matt rocked back on his heels. "What's his name- John? He was the ex-boyfriend you mentioned, wasn't he?"

Of course he'd made that leap. "I never said that."

"C'mon, Rose, the guy was practically marking his territory. Doesn't mean things between us need to be weird because of it. You don't owe me anything. It's just..." He shook his head.

"What?"

"Forget it. I shouldn't say anything."

Tilting her head, Rose raised her eyebrows, urging him to out with it, yet conversely wondering why she was. He had just given her an out.

"All right, all right." He rubbed at an eye. "It's just, for months you've made it perfectly clear that you were very much a grieving widow, and weren't looking for a romantic relationship with anyone. Maybe not ever again." His eyes bored into hers, bright blue and earnest. "I know that sounds bitter, but I'm really not. I'm just trying to understand."

"Okay...?" Rose tugged on the cuffs of her jacket and looked at him, waiting.

"Just...why? I mean, a few minutes ago you said how awkward it can be, to see a person that you haven't had contact with for years. So what makes him so special, that he can just walk back into your life?"

Eyes squeezing shut, she tried to think of some reply. Then Matt spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said. Her lids lifted in time to see him gathering his bag up from the floor. "You don't have to answer that. It really is none of my business. I guess...I'm just afraid you're gonna get hurt."

Rose almost laughed. Afraid she'd get hurt? Well, she feared the _opposite_. Rose had lived with pain for ages; pain was safe. Meant the Wolf was not getting her way.

But now she had her claws in the Doctor and already the old hurt had begun to fade, giving way to something sparkling and bright, like happiness.

Or like a siren's song, drawing them out into uncharted waters.

"I appreciate your concern, Matt," she said in reply, forcing a smile onto her face. "But if I know anything, it's that you don't need to worry about me. Okay? You really, really don't."

* * *

Clara gave her wet hair one last vigorous rub, then draped the damp towel over the back of her desk chair. At the end of a long day, the hot shower had left her feeling languid and ever so sleepy, and wholeheartedly wishing that she could simply crawl between her sheets. But alas- her bed was still piled all over with the day's shopping bounty- skirts and dresses and jumpers, boots and other pretty miscellany, which she'd spent the entire previous hour sorting out and gloating over. It had been a very good day.

And the Doctor had been, surprisingly enough, a very good sport. Although she wasn't exactly sure what he'd been up to a lot of the time, he had remained close by enough to reappear at periodic intervals, and his complaints had been limited. Coming from him, such behavior was almost solicitous. Maybe she should get herself kidnapped more often.

In all seriousness though, she did feel a bit bad about the Doctor doing any sort of penance over something that wasn't his fault. Things could've gone so pear-shaped if he'd tried to come save her, and every time Morgan demanded UNIT contact him Clara had thanked heaven when he didn't answer his phone. That said- it _had_ been a rather rough five days. And since not even a year's worth of nagging would've ever earned her that long-coveted trip to NY (much less the Doctor announcing it with an actual gift), Clara had taken him up on the offer without a qualm, figuring she'd earned it.

With a small smile, Clara looked down at the white tee and smoothed her fingers over the shiny black appliqué letters. Though he was rubbish at choosing sizes (it hung down to her mid-thigh) such a sweet, thoughtful gesture had left her thoroughly astonished. Who knew he had it in him?

Made her wonder-

No, Clara scolded herself, briskly shaking her head. Nope, not going down that path again, especially now when she was so worn out and didn't have her full wits about her. Sleep first, dwell on the Doctor's odd (yet promising?) behavior later.

After spending a few minutes relocating all of her purchases from the bed to an armchair (it was okay to forego hanging things up, just this once), Clara ran her fingers through her damp, tangled locks. A quick scan of the empty dresser-top and nightstand reminded her where she'd last set down her hairbrush. Console room. Bugger.

A less responsible person would have simply dealt with the major morning snarls, but Clara Oswald went padding down the corridor with hardly a second thought, tying the sash of her soft white robe.

On stepping through the archway to the console room's catwalk, she paused when she heard the Doctor speaking, his low tone barely audible over the rhythmic hum of the Time Rotor. Clara peeked over the railing and yes, there he was, long purple coat and all, back curving as he stood hunched over the console. With an index finger, the Doctor idly flicked a little switch back and forth while he spoke into a black, corded phone.

"...right," she heard him saying, "but how am I to blame, again? It's not like I rang them up to insist they send out their entire sodding army." Switching the phone to the other side of his head, the Doctor rubbed at his ear. "In fact, this is the first I've heard of it at all; the soldiers we met at the TARDIS didn't mention anything. Probably because they knew how stupid-"

The Doctor went quiet, as if he were interrupted, and began flipping the little switch again, rather agitatedly. Must be Kate Stewart, thought Clara, snickering a bit. Who had called to chew out who?

"Well...no," he said, drawing it out as if unsure of his answer. "There wasn't." A pause. "Oh. Really?" The Doctor stood up straight. "Is it too late for me to tell you that we were actually chasing pig-men through the sewers, then?"

His voice held traces of hopeful amusement and he must have gotten the reaction he wanted, because an instant later he chuckled. Clara just shook her head at his ridiculousness, beginning to head for the stairs.

"So," said the Doctor, and it wasn't the tiny, common word that made Clara halt, one hand on the metal railing, so much as the _uncommon_ way his tongue had just turned it out- thick and heavy, slow, richly sweet like molasses. "You were worried about me, yes?"

The rotor's glow highlighted his profile, and the coy smirk he wore matched his tone. Then all at once it vanished, as the Doctor cringed. "No, no, sorry, I don't think it's funny. And I know what I promised, but this wasn't London and-" His fingers traveled the length of his neck. "Because...I did something stupid." Another pause. "Does it matter?"

Going quiet again, the Doctor began to pace, while Clara stared at him, totally lost. Was he actually embarrassed? Him? And this, as a follow-up to...flirting? Couldn't be. It was weird enough that she gave the back of her hand a quick pinch, just to make sure she wasn't actually sleeping, face-down on her duvet amidst piles of clothes.

"No, no," he finally continued, "I'm mostly just afraid I'll...hurt you. Yes." Head dropping, the Doctor plunged a hand into his hair. "Okay. Thing is, for weeks Clara's been pleading for a trip to New York. I'd been avoiding it- yes, that's exactly why. But then she, ah," the hand in his hair stilled as his words picked up speed, "she found that shirt you gave me. And so I...I panicked. I told her that it was for her. I could hardly _not_ take her after that."

He was still speaking, but for the time being Clara could process nothing but the rapid throb of her heart, her ears ringing like there'd been a burst of loud noise. Blindly, she looked down at herself, running her hands over the blank white canvas of her terry-cloth robe.

Underneath it, against her skin, the cheap cotton garment she wore was not the thoughtful gift he'd made it out to be. Or it _was- _just not from him to her. And why that mattered so much, Clara was still unsure, yet hurt knotted up her stomach regardless, and humiliation stung her cheeks red like a slap.

She shuffled back until her shoulders met the chilly wall, needing him out of her sight, reluctant to overhear anything else. Distantly, she knew she should be furious with him, with his deceit, but at the moment, Clara couldn't quite manage it. Not when every other part of her was scrabbling, scouring the recesses of her mind for any past hint, any off-hand mention, any_thing_ that maybe, just maybe, might offer a clue as to who the heck he was talking to.

Not Kate Stewart. Of that she was certain, despite the discussion of today's run-in with UNIT. Before the Doctor fetched her yesterday, Clara had learned of his history with the organization, that he'd had past interactions with Kate, and that he considered her a friend, of sorts. But not the sort with whom he'd exchange secret gifts. The sort who could elicit..._this_ reaction out of him. Such open, vulnerable body-language, his spoken replies too raw and honest.

Of course, he was a man of many facets, of quicksilver emotions. Hadn't Clara witnessed him in a myriad of moods? But somehow this was different. With a jolt it hit her that perhaps she had actually stumbled in upon something private, something that she'd had no business eavesdropping on.

Something _personal_.

But how? What? Finger-combing her damp, stringy hair, Clara mentally backtracked. Perhaps she wasn't thinking straight. None of this was based on much more than a gut feeling. Her brain had yet to find justification for any of it, so maybe she was drawing all the wrong conclusions-

_Clara's been pleading for a trip to New York. _He'd said that.

This person (no_, woman_, undoubtedly) knew just who Clara was, to the point that the Doctor felt free to just...toss out her name. She had knowledge of Clara, yet Clara knew nothing of her.

Why was her existence some big secret?

While Clara's was _not?_

A long whoosh of air escaped her. Now that- that really stung. No because she was fancied him or anything (_okay, maybe a little)_ or envisioned that he had feelings for her (_maybe a little)._ But she had fully believed that she was special to him.

Clara imagined confessing that last bit out loud, and his subsequent indignation. _"Of course you're special, Clara Oswald!"_

But not the most special.

Second place special.

And Clara was not accustomed to second-place anything.

Making an abrupt 180, Clara moved, intent on heading back to her bedroom, to obsess over this in private. She didn't make it three steps before she heard the _thump_ of his boots on the stairs.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind her, just as she was considering making a break for it. "Blimey," said the Doctor, in a rather raspy voice, and she froze. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Nope, no, nothing." Pasting on a cheerful smile, Clara whirled to face him. "No, not _nothing_, I mean, I'm not sleeping. Which is obvious. Since I'm right here. Talking to you."

"Right, okay." His eyes were wary, guarded. "And why is that, again?"

"Hairbrush," she said, that lightbulb flashing after a second of gaping at him. "Left it on the console this morning. You know humans, we can't sleep, can't do anything, really, without brushing our hair..." His expression hardened and Clara trailed off, eyes making a quick search of the console room below. Spotting the brush, she pointed at it gratefully. "Found it. Just gotta run down-"

"Clara." The Doctor blocked her way as she tried to slip past him to the stairs. "What's going on?"

There was resignation in his voice, and she had no idea what to make of it. Hesitantly, her eyes flicked up to the Doctor's again. While they were still guarded, they were also soft, almost apologetic, and this restored a bit of Clara's old confidence. Sniffing, she straightened her spine.

"Oh, I don't know, why don't you tell me? Who was that on the phone just now, Doctor? Old girlfriend?"

He tensed. Bullseye. Clara held her ground as the Doctor gazed at her, silent and unreadable, and she wondered if her glib comment was the end of any discussion about this, ever.

Suddenly he moved, guiding her back toward the corridor. "Tea."

"What?" Clara stumbled a bit in her slippers.

"I need tea. It's the least I deserve, I think, after I take you to do all that shopping today, and now on top of it all you expect me to _talk_."

Relief filled her at the slight tinge of humour in his voice, and she glanced up at him as they continued walking. The Doctor side-eyed her and gave her a small smile. "I always intended to do, you know," he went on in a soft voice. "Take you on that shopping trip. You probably think otherwise, after what I said to...on the phone. But it was more...New York City itself, that I was averse to. For reasons that have nothing to do with you."

She took a small breath. "Yet you ended up going there twice? Once today and once...before?"

The Doctor shook his head, laughing a little as he shoved open the kitchen's glass door. "The things I get myself roped into."

They lapsed into silence as they parted, Clara settling down on a barstool as the Doctor went to fill the electric kettle with water. He pulled two mugs and tea out of their respective cabinets, and then propped himself against the countertop directly across from her, waiting for the water to heat.

"Her name is Rose," he told her, with faint determination, like he was ripping a plaster off. "At the moment, she's a member of UNIT. And she lives in New York- upstate New York, although we ended up running an errand in Manhattan on Sunday. That's why I was there."

"And that's when she bought you the tee-shirt?"

"Yes," he answered, remorsefully. "I'm so sorry about that, Clara. I just wasn't prepared, I suppose-"

"Doctor, it's fine, I get it. No big deal."

After regarding her for a moment, he relaxed a bit. "Anyway, Rose said that she doesn't mind if you keep it."

Her eyebrows flew high, resentment blazing a fire through her body as if she was tinder. It was almost all Clara could do not to strip that bloody shirt off right then and there, and chuck it at his stupid, clueless head. Her arms crossed her body, hands gripping fistfuls of her robe, and she inhaled, long and slow, through her nose. Was he really that dense?

The teapot beeped, and the Doctor, who'd been eyeing her with increasing alarm, swung around to it like it was his savior. His actions were especially awkward as he made up their cups, although he seemed happy to have something to do with his hands. Clara watched him, a million questions firing off in her mind, one after the other, like fireworks.

_Who was this Rose person? How long had he known her? Did he visit her often? _

_Why was she so special?_

"Hot cuppa, here you go." After handing Clara hers, he took up the same position on the other side of the bar, as if he felt safer with a barrier between them. In tandem, they sipped, eyes on each other.

To her utter shock, the Doctor broke the silence first. "Remember the rift?"

Clara blinked at this non-sequitur. "Yes, of course I do, because last time I saw you you practically shoved me out the door in your rush to go fix it."

"Right," he said, nodding, oblivious to her sarcasm. "Because you'd given me the idea of how I could fix it. But Rose...I knew she was the only one who would be able to help me build what I needed to pull it off. That's the mess you saw in the console room, by the way. It's not a portable teleport- well, I suppose in a way it is, just very advanced and complicated and able to transport people across multi-spacial-"

"Doctor," Clara interrupted, before he could wander away from the subject entirely. "Please make your point."

He took a long sip of his tea. "Point is, our project's not finished. But you're in danger and you can't go home and so..."

"You can't avoid my meeting her," she finished, following the train of his thoughts easily. Her brows drew together and she met his gaze, frowning. "Which is the only reason you're telling me anything about her at all. Yeah?"

It came out clipped and frustrated and the Doctor clammed up, his jaw going tight- and oh, that was just great, now she had him on the defensive. Nice one, Oswald. But she was just so tired; this whole thing was ridiculous! Was she such a nasty person that he couldn't bear to tell her anything? Because this wasn't talking, not like he'd promised it would be. This was him...sprinkling crumbs. Him circling round and round the truth, sharing next to nothing. Why, oh why, was he being so bloody secretive?

"Oh my god," said Clara, her eyes popping wide with realization. "I get it. She's the girl you..."

Shadows darkened his face and his chin jutted farther, causing Clara to falter and rephrase her intended statement.

"...the ah, the girl you told me about last week. On the asteroid marketplace, when we were talking about jewelry and...things."

"What girl?"

The quietly spoken query was far more of a brick wall than an open door, meant to end the discussion rather than continue it.

And it was also a confirmation.

Though a part of Clara had always yearned to know if the Doctor was capable of romantic attachment, last week's off-hand mention of a long-lost love was not how she had hoped to find out. And then, on the heels of this stunning revelation, she'd been forcibly locked up in a bedroom for days, so could she really be blamed for dwelling on it? Not that he'd given her much to go on. _"She's human. We traveled together, a very long time ago." _

Ultimately, all she'd ended up with was more questions. Like, where was this woman now? And why had the Doctor admitted to ever having such feelings at all? To put Clara off...or encourage her?

Clara had never exactly settled on a solid answer to the last question, although his statement -_"a very long time ago"- _had made her draw some fairly hasty conclusions about the first.

Well, she was rethinking those conclusions now. "So she's not dead?"

The Doctor's tight defensiveness softened into surprise. "When did I ever say that she was?"

* * *

Over the next few days, Clara's imagination ran wild. The Doctor had refused to be pushed into revealing much more about the mysterious "Rose", just repeating what Clara already knew -that she was human and they used to travel together. When she hazarded the question that nagged her most- "why aren't you traveling together now?" (a thin veil for _why aren't you together) _all she got in reply was a gruff "it's complicated."

They stayed in the vortex, materializing in London only briefly now and again, either to obtain bits of evidence or to chat with Kate Stewart. Otherwise he was working day and night, like his sole purpose in life was to track down her abductors.

Clara learned that she was not the only friend of his he was worried about- a Sarah Jane and Donna were mentioned, but he said nothing more about them and she had already decided all questions were best saved for later days. For now he was impatient and distracted and somewhat short-tempered, and not the least bit open to having discussions about anything deeper than toast and tea.

Clara was tolerating this for the time being, though a good part of her was itching to slap him. Either that, or demand that drop her back at the UNIT safe-house, at least until this weekend was over if he was going to be such an idiot about it. Honestly. Did he think she and Rose were going to fist-fight over him or something?

Only one thing prevented her clearing the air with him. Much as it hurt to admit it, Clara had a deeply ingrained jealous streak and it was rearing its ugly head. Even without her own teensy crush on the Time Lord (which, if he kept on acting like a giant prat, would soon be remedied), there was still no way she could help it. Because the Doctor was special. More, he was her favourite person in the universe. And sharing had never been one of her particular strengths.

Still. She was a grown-up. Capable of playing nice.

As the days went by, Clara kept gnawing at the subject in her mind, like a dog with a bone, until, with a flash of light, she realized that the Doctor was likely not so worried about her being jealous as he was about her being judgmental. Her construed mental image of Rose had varied wildly- while at first she'd pictured a beautiful, accomplished goddess, now her vision had come to land, rather solidly, on aged, perhaps elderly, lady.

It was very possible. And when considering the Doctor's own age, and how long it had been since he'd traveled with Rose, possible became more like probable. Made sense too, a simple explanation for why the two were no longer together. Why he was so...gentle with her on the phone.

* * *

"Wrong way," said the Doctor, as Clara made an abrupt U-turn on the Police Box's threshold, and face-planted into a firm, tweed-covered chest.

"We're in the woods." Clara extricated herself, holding the Doctor in place with a hand against his lapel, and moved back a step.

"I know," he replied condescendingly, as if any doubts about his driving were groundless. "This is where Mickey wants me to park."

Clara squinted up at him, darkly, and held his gaze. Finally he grimaced, pulling a long breath in through his teeth.

"I didn't mention Mickey?"

Her head began a slow shake.

"Martha?"

"You are unbelievable," she muttered, turning and stepping out into the leaves and dirt.

"They're married," said the Doctor, after yanking the door shut and rushing to catch up. "The house we're going to is actually theirs. Rose is living with them."

"Ah." _Caregivers_? she wondered, as the Doctor maneuvered to lead the way on the small trail, the explanation apparently over.

Soon the woods thinned and became a large lawn, a pretty, white, gabled house standing at its end. The back-door opened before they even reached it and a dark-skinned woman stepped out, smiling. The green scrubs she wore told Clara that she was either a nurse or a doctor, and the welcoming, pleased expression on her beautiful face said that she was not in the least surprised by their visit.

"You must be Clara," she said warmly, taking Clara's hand between both of hers. "I'm Martha. So lovely to meet you." She looked up at the Doctor. "Good job bringing her along, Mister. I'm proud of you." In an aside to Clara, she added, "My husband swore he'd chicken out."

Clara couldn't help but grin.

"Oi," said the Doctor, crossing his arms.

"It's lovely to meet you too," said Clara, relaxing a tad and remembering her manners. Martha seemed so sweet, so normal. "Really lovely. Feels sort of strange, though, you know? His idea of introductions are always more like 'Okay, Clara, I'd like you to meet this ice-monster from Mars who wants to kill us. I need you to talk him out of it. Don't make eye-contact.'"

Martha laughed. "I know, right? Or how about 'this is William Shakespeare, don't let him hit on you-"

"Yes, yes," interrupted the Doctor, looking twitchy, his hands twisting. "Enough of your gossiping. I'm not here for a social call."

The look Martha gave him was arch. "_Aren't_ you?"

"Big, dangerous tear in the fabric of reality," he retorted, glaring at her. "Human lives at stake. Ring a bell, by chance?"

"Rose is in the lounge," said Martha, with a dismissive snort. "You know, since you're so anxious to get to _work_. But be warned- she isn't feeling very well today."

"Is she ill?"

"No, just a bad headache. She gets them once in awhile."

Hands folding together, the Doctor stared at Martha for a moment, his forehead creased with worry wrinkles. Then, without another word, he brushed past her into the house.

The two girls watched him go, and then looked at each other for a moment. "Um, can I ask you something?" said Clara to Martha, on sudden impulse. On receiving a smile, she went on. "How long have you known about me?"

Martha stilled, like she was unsure how to answer. "Just this week," she admitted. "He told Rose about your abduction. So when did you hear about us?"

"Oh," said Clara wryly, pretending to look at her watch. "Around five minutes ago."

"What? Blimey," replied Martha with an eye roll, "he can be such a prat sometimes. Dare I even ask what he said?"

The wind picked up, penetrating and cold, and Clara shivered, glad she was wearing thick tights under her dress. "Just that you were married to someone called Mickey, and that Rose lives with you."

At that, Martha looked like she might breathe fire. "And that's it?"

Unsure, Clara offered an apologetic look. The other woman tilted her face to the sky, nostrils flaring.

"That alien _git," _Martha spat, and she rubbed at her forehead roughly. Then she took a quick breath and met Clara's eyes again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I actually can't believe I still let him get to me like that. It's just that...what he didn't say, is that I used to travel with him too, as did Mickey, we're his friends too. But he's always been great at making me feel like I was second best to-"

"To Rose?"

Suddenly the other woman was watching her with shrewd eyes, her lips curving in sympathy, and Clara did not at all like the feeling of foreboding that suddenly came with it. "C'mon," said Martha, like she was coaxing a child. "Why don't we go into the kitchen and chat for a bit? You must have a million questions, and I made pie-"

"You know," said Clara, with a lift of her chin, "as great as that sounds, I'm actually sort of anxious to finally meet this famous Rose. Okay?"

Instead of an argument, she got a careful nod. "Okay."

No doubt Martha could see right through her, thought Clara, as she followed her into the house and through the kitchen. But she didn't much care. And Clara was past ready to have her worst fears laid to rest. To see for herself that no matter who Rose was, or what she had meant to the Doctor, that there was no chance that she might, at this point in time, re-enter his life.

The instant she heard the girlish laughter floating out from the lounge, Clara's heart sank, and she knew that the assumptions she'd drawn- based on _"a very long time ago"-_ were somehow entirely wrong. Or maybe he'd out and out lied about that bit. Wouldn't surprise her.

And sure enough, as Clara caught her first glimpse of the woman curled up on the sofa, she found her face to be, while pale and drawn, also smooth-skinned and young, although not quite so beautiful as Clara had at first feared.

"Oi, I told you to stop it, Doctor," said Rose, giggles belying her stern tone. Eyes closed, the blonde buried her face into the cushy back of the sofa, in a feeble attempt to escape the Time Lord, who was kneeling on the floor next to her with his sonic screwdriver in hand.

"Ow," he whinged, though half laughing himself, as Rose blindly flailed an arm out his way and connected hard with his shoulder. "That's really rude. Now I know it's difficult for you, holding still and all, but blimey, Rose, is 2.7 seconds so much to ask-"

"Oh, that's nice, especially from the man who never stops wriggling, even when he's asleep-"

Martha cleared her throat loudly, and the Doctor started, gaze darting their way. "Oh, sorry, hello." His gaze darted from Martha to Clara, back and forth, rapidly. "Just, ehm, trying to do something about Rose's headache."

"That you, Mar?" asked Rose, shielding her eyes with a hand and attempting to peer out, her mouth pinched with pain. Then her lips parted and her head lifted slightly from the pillow, and Clara knew she'd been spotted. "Oh. Hello."

While there was no animosity in Rose's soft greeting, just honest surprise, somehow it made Clara feel like a total outsider. Well, that was hardly fair. Why should she play the part of the unexpected guest, when she'd arrived with the Doctor? Lived with him, too. Though, going by the flushed, somewhat disheveled look of him right now, he'd probably forgotten that little fact entirely.

Why was she intimidated by this, again?

"Hello," she replied, her heels tight, her back straight, her voice clear and brisk. "I'm Clara Oswald. And you must be Rose." She felt her lips pull up, forming a tight smile. "I've heard _so_ much about you. And I'm sorry to see that you're not feeling well, but it was awfully kind of you to meet with us today anyway."


	16. Chapter 16

**Unbeta-ed, due to my over-anxiety to finally get this thing posted. **

* * *

"I'm Clara Oswald," his companion said, her smile crisp and proper. "You must be Rose. I've heard so much about you. And I'm sorry to see that you're not feeling well, but it was awfully kind of you to meet with us today anyway."

Rose squinted up at her, sincerely confused. "Meet with you?"

"You know," said Clara, in that patient nanny voice the Doctor was well used to. "About the breach in reality, just west of London- aren't you on the team assigned to help with it? The Doctor mentioned that you were with UNIT."

"UNIT? Yeah, suppose I am." Rose's tone was even as she fussed with her pillow. "Not assigned to the breach though, although now that you say it I sort of wish I was. Be nice to get paid for all those hours of work. 'Specially putting up with him."

"Hey, that's nice," inserted the Doctor with a feigned scowl, from where he still knelt on the floor beside her. All he got in response was a tiny smirk, but of course he didn't really mind her teasing. Especially now, when what he felt most was utter relief, the tension of days dissipating from his spine. All that silly worrying he'd done, and just look at them- his girls, getting along fine. Okay, fine, somehow Clara had taken this for yet another UNIT pow-wow. He was a bit confused on that. Hadn't she deduced the truth days ago?

Oh well. She'd catch on eventually.

"Funny, but it seems like this is all the Doctor and I've been doing this week," Clara went on, and clasped her hands together. "Meeting with UNIT higher-ups. Like Kate Stewart, for instance. You know her?"

"Sorry, no," replied Rose on an exhale, letting her eyes fall closed again. "This is New York, remember, while she must be London division? An' I'm no higher-up. Just a soldier, me."

"Oh?" remarked Clara, blinking, her surprise brightly evident. "Not that it matters, I suppose. I'm sure you're brilliant. Anyway, thanks again for-"

"Wait." Rose burrowed further into her afghan. "Don't thank me for anything yet. Feeling pretty useless today, to be honest. M'sorry, but I think this has been a wasted trip for you both."

"What?" said the Doctor, shifting on his knees to face her better, totally taken aback. "Don't be ridiculous, Rose. If you'd just let me help you-"

Inexplicable anger suddenly darkened her face. "I told you you _can't_, Doctor, so will you please just leave it?" Rose snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. "Look, we've already sorted the worst of the cannon anyway. Why don't you just take Clara out there with you? She can hand you your tools while you finish it, well as I can."

"Hand me my-" Now he was indignant, too. "I've been the one following your lead on this whole project!"

He saw her flinch a little at that, pale cheeks pinking, yet she didn't apologize. It was entirely baffling to him- yes, that bloody project needed finishing, but above anything, he was here to see _her_. And they were on the same page about that, or so he'd thought, but maybe those few days apart had gotten to her...no. That wasn't it. Because it was all sunshine a few minutes ago.

"Sorry for my bad manners, Clara," Rose finally said, after a calming breath. "Must be spending too much time around this one lately." Her hand patted at the Doctor's shoulder. "S'been lovely to finally meet you. _Do_ come again for a proper chat sometime. Especially since it sounds like you have the advantage of having heard far more about me than I have about you."

"Right," replied Clara slowly, lips thinning until her smile looked painted on. "But I guess that's how it is, isn't it, when you're always together with somebody? You...talk." Fiddling with the button at her collar, her gaze flicked to the Doctor. "Especially him; he does so much talking, always rambling on and on. Hardly stops for a second."

"Oh, I believe it." Rose had shielded her eyes from the light with a hand again. "And it's great. Long as you remember that words conceal just as well as they reveal."

A fine line appeared between Clara's brows. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just...word of advice? Whatever it is that he's been telling you- might want to think twice before you believe it."

As the Doctor watched Clara's eyebrows do a slow, indignant arch upward, his own reaction to Rose's rude statement was stifled, comprehension too busy dawning. There was... a game going on here, wasn't there? A game, and it had nothing to do with him. Or it did, but he wasn't a player. Property, more like. So those worries hadn't been so ill-founded, after all. Blimey, sometimes he hated being right.

From just behind Clara, a wincing Martha caught the Doctor's eye, and she fluttered her fingers, in a little "go ahead" gesture.

He gave a helpless shrug, eyes darting between Clara and Rose as the silence stretched out, the loud mantel clock announcing every awkward second. What the heck did Martha expect him to do? Didn't she know he was rubbish at this?

The Doctor's gaze settled on Rose, who was curled up on one side, a hand still over her eyes. "Rose, you know this isn't just about finishing the cannon."

When he saw her face soften he went on, encouraged. "I can't attempt the jump on my own. I need you for mission control."

"Mickey could do it just as well," Rose retorted, stubbornness instantly returning. "He manned all of mine."

"Mickey's not here."

"No, but he's just at the park with Charlie. They'll be home any time. By lunch, for sure."

"Rose-"

"Doctor." Her fingers dug into her eyes. "I'm really not up for an argument right now. Can we please just leave it for a bit? You could go have some of that apple pie Martha made this morning. S'your favourite, I know, right after banana cream."

The very idea of rubbery, mushy-soft apples made his nose scrunch, and the Doctor was glad that Rose couldn't see him. "Right, okay. But-"

He heard a sniff, and looked over to find Clara regarding him dubiously. "What are you on about?" There was a funny note of triumph in her voice. "You absolutely hate apple pie."

The Doctor glared daggers but it was useless, she had already turned to speak to Martha. "Do you have any biscuits in, by chance? That'll lure him out to the kitchen quick as anything."

Martha licked her lips. "Um. I think I might-"

"You don't," Rose's voice rang out, sudden and clear, from beside him. "I threw them all out last weekend, because if _somebody_ doesn't insist otherwise, he'd live on the things."

Clara's eyes narrowed, her arms folding tight across her chest.

The Doctor's survival instinct kicked in. "It doesn't matter, because I'm not keen to eat anything at the moment. But you, Clara Oswald, happen to love any sort of pie, so I know that if Martha is kind enough to offer you some right now, you'd take her up on it, yes?"

His tone brooked no argument. After holding his gaze for a long moment, Clara slumped a bit and met Martha's eyes. "You still offering?"

"Course." With a warm smile, Martha inclined her head toward the kitchen, and then a visibly-reluctant Clara followed her around the corner into it.

With his index finger, the Doctor poked a dent into the leather sofa cushion. "I'm sorry," he said to Rose, in an undertone, so as to avoid being overheard.

Shrugging, she rolled to her side. "Don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." He clambered to his feet, bracing himself with a hand on the arm of the sofa, and his knees thanked him. That thin rug over hardwood floors wasn't much of a cushion.

Rose huffed, sliding an arm under her pillow. "If you're gonna be a prat, you can go do it somewhere else. Not in the mood."

The Doctor took her in for a moment, all huddled up under the blanket, only her blonde head poking out. Decisively, he patted the far end of the sofa. "Can I sit?"

"Dunno," she said, stroppily. "_Can _you?"

Grinning, the Doctor plonked down on the far end, taking care not to bump her bare feet. "Rose. I..." He cleared his throat. "I didn't want it to be like with Sarah Jane."

Without answering, Rose made a brief attempt to peer out at him from the shelter of her hand.

"I thought you knew Clara was coming today," he added, quietly.

Rose sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, and he took over the extra space, tucking the afghan securely around her feet. "I did. I just...wasn't thinking about it at all."

A smug noise escaped him and Rose scowled. "Because I'm _ill."_

"Right," he agreed, though the grin remained. "I, ah. I did tell her about you."

"Huh, so she said. I work for UNIT. Remember?"

Stroking a hand over his chin, the Doctor studied her, trying to gauge her expression, but it was difficult. Rose's eyes were closed, her skin pale but unlined, though there might be a funny set to her mouth. He wasn't sure. Billions of languages, and fat lot of good they did him now, when he really needed to understand. "I'm sorry," he said again, a broken record. "It's just that I've learned that this sort of thing usually goes better when you know about each other beforehand-"

Her soft snort cut him off. "It does? Like when?"

"Donna," he supplied instantly. "Donna was thrilled to meet Martha, and she loved meeting you. Jack too, although I suppose that last one isn't so surprising-"

"Clever Donna." Rose wore a faint smirk. "The only one who knew better than to fancy you."

"Not the only one," he defended, though he caught her drift. Things had been so easy with Donna, so carefree, without all of the complications that so many of his friends brought onboard when they inevitably became enamored with him. Complications, and competition. One of the main reasons he normally avoided these sorts of introductions.

"Fine, Donna and Amy."

After a few seconds Rose peered up at him again, correctly interpreting his silence. "Seriously? Not Amy?"

"It's not as if I want it to happen," he mumbled, gaze drifting to the draped-over window.

"I know, Doctor. Although, I think that maybe you do, a little."

"Not- not when you're here. You must know that, Rose. And I'm not sure what Clara was trying to get at, but I _didn't_ mislead her about you. She...knows. But I think she might be feeling a bit..."

"Possessive." Rose sighed. "Can't say I blame her. I'm sure Clara's a nice girl. This was just, I dunno, bad timing. Not sure I would've felt up to meeting anybody new today, to be honest."

Suddenly he felt how terribly inconsiderate he'd been, piling all of this on her, pestering her really, when her head ached so much that she literally couldn't see straight. "Rose," he said, laying a cautious hand on her calf. "Will you please let me help you? Even without doing an exam I can tell it's a migraine; your light sensitivity's a dead giveaway."

Her hand went up, smoothing a wayward bit of hair out of her face. "I appreciate that, I do. But thing is, m'gonna have to just wait this out. I can see why you believe what you do, but thing is, I know for a fact that it's not a real migraine."

"Rubbish. I suppose some idiot doctor told you that."

Her sigh was resigned, battle-weary. "Go ahead, then. Find out for yourself."

Five seconds later he was holding his screwdriver vertically upright and staring at it in complete bemusement. "Your nerve signals, blood flow, and brain activity are all normal. I don't understand."

Something had to be causing it. It was a mystery, which he normally liked, but not when it involved this particular girl. His eyes tracked her hand as it drifted restlessly from one pressure point to another, her fingertips first digging into the thin flesh between her brows, roughly tracing the arch, then indenting her temple-

She might as well have smacked him upside the face. "Rose, did you get these headaches before..."

"Before what?" she prodded patiently, fingers still circling over her temple.

"Before you lost him."

Her brow furrowed and she took a breath. "It's from the severed bond, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Shifting onto her back, she slit bleary eyes open to look at him, full of concern. "Hey, don't get like that. I'm _fine_. Though I...I must admit I did suspect...anyway. Compared to how it was those first few months, a headache like this is nothing. Like... an aftershock, yeah?"

Shrugging, the Doctor tried to smile at her, gaze falling to the heavy knit afghan draped over her form. A deep, soft brown it was, tiny lines of gold weaving through the thick twists of yarn, complex and enmeshed and tangled as timelines. And like the mental bond Rose had formed with his other self, only the worst sort of damage could unravel it.

His eyes traced the slope of her forehead, the curve of her cheek, picturing the frayed connections, hidden behind the veil of her fair, soft skin-

Skin, which was not only a veil but also a gateway. The Doctor sat up straight and stared at her, touching his own face. "Hair of the Dog."

"Sorry?"

"You know, the colloquial term, for when you ease a hangover by having another drink. Comes from the expression 'the hair of the dog that bit you', meaning that the best cure for what ails you is to have more of it. It's not, terrible habit to form really, but it works. A bit."

"Doctor, I'm afraid I'm still not following. What exactly are you getting at?"

He looked down at his lap, hands wringing as the frightening reality of what he was about to suggest began to sink in. "Point is, I think we can get rid of your headache, temporarily at least. I'll let you think about it-"

"That's brilliant. What's to think about? Go on, then."

For a long moment he was silent, and then all at once Rose half sat up, grimacing her regret at the abrupt movement. "Wait a mo. You didn't mean that you were gonna mix me up a Bloody Mary, did you?"

"No," he admitted, face hot, hands jerking about even more agitatedly. "See, you're experiencing the after-effects of a telepathic trauma. Normally nothing can be done for that, have to wait it out, but yours is a...special case. I figured that since your mind thinks I'm him I could..." He ended with a vague gesture, mouth apparently unable to put the rest in words.

"You could give it a taste of what it wants?"

A little thrill ricocheted through him at her bluntness. Nodding dumbly, he studied her closely for signs of wariness -or even disgust- but Rose seemed nothing but thoughtful as she eased herself back down onto the pillow. Enough time passed for guilt to sprout in his chest, and the Doctor began to reproach himself for even proposing such a thing. She was in _pain_, for Rassilon's sake. What right had he to feel so...so _anticipatory_?

"All right." Rose spoke so decidedly that it almost startled him. "What do we need to do? Hold hands for a bit?" She stretched an arm out his way, her hand dangling in the air.

"Well," he replied, scratching his head and eyeing her open palm with longing. "That could work, but. Ehm. Might take awhile."

The idea had its definite appeal -a lengthy hand-holding session with a bonus telepathic buzz- but lengthy meant risky, and anyway the Doctor knew he needed to be pragmatic about this. Why guzzle pints of beer when a single downed shot would do the trick? "It would be better to go with a touch that's a little more...potent."

The word exited his lips sounding so ridiculously suggestive that he immediately wished he could just burrow down in the sofa and die.

Rose, for her part, was silently shaking, and his eyes flew to her face to find her lips pursed tight, her neck muscles straining. Apologies in a hundred languages formed on his tongue and then died there, the instant a huge snort of air was expelled from her nose.

Blast it all, she was laughing at him.

"_Potent_, you say?" Rose rolled the word out, low and teasing, honeyed in a way that went straight to his blood. "My my, Doctor, do tell. What might that involve?"

He couldn't think, swamped with a sudden, mad urge to snog that clever little smirk right off of her face.

And...well. Wouldn't it certainly do the trick?

"Clever, me, always good with a plan." Grinning darkly, some insane voice in his head egging him on, he leaned over her and braced himself with both hands against the cushion, his arms bracketing her waist. "You know I'll think of something."

Her eyes were fully open now, in response to his bold move, but Rose wasn't recoiling, and she held their locked gaze. Ever so slowly, he closed the distance between them, absorbing her every tiny reaction- the tiny hitch of breath, ever-darkening eyes, the sudden flush of her skin- and then all at once he knew for a fact that she wasn't going to put a stop to this.

One of his life's most painful regrets was that he had never shared a real, proper kiss with Rose. But barriers had always stood between them, numerous and seemingly insurmountable. Ill-matched lifespans and fear and weighty responsibilities, then the Void, a bond-mate. Somehow all of it had vanished like wisps of smoke, and now by all indications the only flimsy wall still standing in their way was the handbreadth of space between her mouth and his.

From her parted lips, warm breath puffed over his face and he faltered, searching her dark eyes. Much as every cell in his body urged him forward, he couldn't go through with it. Not like this, as a scarce-thought-out impulse. Not with his friends just in the other room, possibly overhearing.

Not as a pretense.

And really, another pretense is all it would be. A pain remedy, albeit a fantastic one. Because, in spite of his wild flights of fancy, there _were_ still barriers between them- conversations they hadn't had, secrets they hadn't revealed, promises they hadn't made.

"Sorry," he all but whispered, swiftly backing off when the disappointment in her eyes nearly convinced him to sod all good sense. "Bit...carried away."

Rose's nose wrinkled in embarrassment, but she nodded, smiling at him. "Yeah. S'okay."

His hand raked into his hair and stayed there, tugging at the strands. "Maybe this is a bad idea."

"It will be fine," she encouraged. "I trust you."

"That makes one of us," said the Doctor wryly, but went and knelt on the floor beside her again. "Close your eyes," he softly instructed. "A brief touch to your temples should do the trick. Quick burst of energy through the shortest route to your mind. Easy peasy. Okay?"

"Okay," she breathed, after just the slightest pause, and he could see her steeling herself.

Ten seconds, he vowed, fingers hovering millimeters above her skin. In, out. Plenty enough time to cure her headache, not anywhere close to enough to risk a permanent link.

Ten seconds.

Ten. The countdown began as his fingertips touched down, clinically prodding the delicate flesh to ensure proper contact. With nine came the spark, and eight, itwas a fire like regeneration. Blazing, roaring, engulfing him like it always did, but this time it was a contained burn, painless, sparing the shell, intent only on re-forging his soul. Merging it with hers.

Then the count was lost and he should _get out_, a fact he instantly forgot, because Rose was suddenly standing before him- a queen in a sea of fragrant grass, her slim form clad in a clinging gown of lace like cobwebs, her hair afire, irises ringed with gold.

_"My Doctor."_ It was a certainty, a promise, spoken by full lips, and as she stretched her hands out to his, love radiated off of her like shimmering heat. All of it his for the taking, if only he could touch her-

Raging and shrill, the penetrating clatter of the cloister bell shrieked in his ears, the painful shock of it thoroughly jarring him from the moment. And then, with a frantic look round and a heaving breath, the Doctor stumbled from Rose's grasping reach, his eyes blinking open.

His hands went into the air and, panting, they stared at each other like wild creatures. Only a thread of sanity kept him from launching himself at her, capturing both her mouth and her future, finally finishing what he'd started ages ago when he'd snagged her by the hand in that basement and told her to run.

No thought of apologizing for what had just happened crossed his mind, nor even any questions. There was nothing left to ask. Rose had just shown him her truth, her heart, her intentions. In spite of all of her hesitation and fears and outright pushing him away, the Doctor now knew that Rose desired this too, just as badly as he did.

Not only that- she had outright offered it. What idiotic instinct had made him jump away?

Well, that mistake would not go another second unrectified.

"Marry me."

In utter shock, Rose hastily put space between them, bolting upright on the sofa. "What did you say?"

He was not put off. "Marry me," he repeated himself, deliberately, with all the conviction of a man who's just had his every doubt banished.

"What, now?" she asked, swiping her hair out of her face. "No. What are you doing? We haven't even talked yet."

"Of course not _now_, if you mean right this moment, right here." He looked around distastefully, now glad that nothing too momentous had happened between them, here in Mickey's lounge. Dazedly popping to his feet, he smiled down at her and offered his hand. "C'mon. We have all the time in the world to talk, eh? Now that everything's settled between us."

"Settled? We haven't _settled_ anything."

He hummed, shaking his head. "Well, not _settled_ exactly, it's just the best translation. Kui'La."

An important term in his native tongue, one Rose had apparently heard before, judging by her sharply drawn breath. "No. Oh no, oh my god. I totally didn't mean...Doctor. I'm sorry, so incredibly sorry. I know what you saw, but I'm not ready to marry you. There's still so much-"

"So much what, Rose?" He dropped to sit on the coffee table directly in front of her, bent forward with elbows on knees, frustration taking over. "Of course you're ready. You've decided. You just _showed_ me-"

"Oh...hello," came a voice, and they sprung apart from each other, probably looking guilty as sin. "Am I interrupting-"

The Doctor turned a fierce glare on Clara. "_Yes_."

Her eyes went wide. "Wow, okay. Sorry, guess I'll just-" Inclining her head, Clara vanished back into the kitchen.

Attention going back to Rose, the Doctor's first glimpse of her guarded expression had him wanting to tear his hair out.

"Look," she began, before he could say a word, "you are forgetting that I'm human, not Gallifreyan, and I haven't done this" -she indicated her temples- "in a very long time. My mental shields aren't what they used to be. I didn't mean for you to see...what you saw."

He coughed out a sardonic laugh. "Rose. You couldn't have possibly blocked that. It's not something that you're _meant_ to hide."

"Well, how was I to know?" Rose drew the pillow up against her belly, hugging it. "And you wouldn't have seen it at all if you hadn't been in my head-"

"You invited me!"

Rose's lips pursed, and she clutched the pillow tighter, like it was a shield. "And what if I'd gotten an unfiltered look into your head once, hmm? How 'bout right after Krop Tor? What would I have seen?"

"That's different, because even if you had seen something, you wouldn't have understood what it meant."

"Not the point and you bloody know it. You wanted this then, just like now, but you were so consumed with protecting me from yourself that you'd have _never_ followed through. Don't you dare deny it."

His jaw tightened. "I was an idiot then."

"Maybe so. And maybe I'm the idiot now, but hey, at least you should be able to empathise. Above all else," Rose sniffed, blinking back tears, "I need you safe, and I'm not convinced yet that you are. We haven't talked about any of it yet."

Swallowing hard, he picked at the knee of his trousers. "That's what I was hoping might happen today. The talking."

"Oh, so that's why you brought your companion along then? To witness our heart to heart?"

He ran a hand down his face. "You _know_ I didn't have a choice about that."

Rose went quiet and so did he. Bitter disappointment had caught tight in his throat, and nothing he could say would dislodge it.

And she _wouldn't_ say it.

After a bit of them sitting there, her on the sofa, him still on the table, he peered up at her. "Your head any better?"

Rose looked almost sorry before finally nodding. "I...could work now. On the cannon. If you want."

Wants. They were such fickle things. What had been his heart's desire an hour ago now felt like a consolation prize.

"Fine."

* * *

"Okay," Clara huffed, swiping the back of one hand over her brow while she diligently kept rotating the console's small hand crank. "Could you possibly hurry that along a bit, Doctor?"

"What?" On the other side of the room, the Doctor had his back to her, hands roaming all over the computer panel, pressing buttons and keying in data. "No, I can't. Tricky thing; these times must be calculated right down to the, the precise nanosecond, no margin for error at all, or who knows where I might end up on the jump back. Well, _when_ I end up, not where-"

"Times? I thought we were syncing the computer with that...round light thing?"

"Dimension cannon," he corrected, nose pressing close to the panel's small screen.

From where she was sitting on the jumpseat, Rose looked up from her work to give Clara a sympathetic shrug and a bit of an eye-roll. "Hey, what were you just saying about Akhaten? They use what for currency?"

Clara licked her lips, inspecting the coloured lights on the walls. Much as she disliked this situation, with this blonde interloper and her off-putting, easy familiarity with both the TARDIS and its pilot, she and Rose had struck up a bit of reluctant comradery. Reluctant on her end, anyway- much as Clara hated to admit it, even after their rocky start, Rose's kind attention to her this afternoon seemed nothing but sincere. That said, Clara did suspect that the pair of them were currently using her as a buffer, so they could more easily ignore each other.

"Well, it's not so much what you give them," she stated, in answer to Rose's question, "but what's behind it. Like, its value is in its history. I was wearing a ring of my mother's and-"

"All right now, Rose." The Doctor's impatient voice cut in, echoing through the room. "Are you finished fiddling with that thing? I need it."

With another eye-roll for Clara's benefit, Rose got up and went to hand him that weird contraption they'd built- a round green button hung on a looped cord, with coloured wires poking out of it every which way. To Clara it looked like the hacked-off bottom of a stoplight had mated with a clock-radio; nothing like any kind of "cannon" she'd ever heard of.

"Get ready," he said to Rose, as he rapidly plugged it into the computer ports. "When I call it, we'll flip this switch and that one simultaneously. Okay? Three, two, one...now!"

Their hands moved in perfect tandem, and an instant later there was a long, quiet beep, and the button glowed greenly, casting eerie light light over their faces.

"Ha! That's sorted." Triumphant, the Doctor spun to face the console, his coat-tails flying.

"Great," said Clara, without much enthusiasm, resting her weight against a panel. "Sorted means I can finally stop cranking this thing, yeah? My shoulder's killing me."

The Doctor darted an odd glance her way, gaze zeroing in on her hand. "Stop? Oh, yes. Right. Stopping's...fine."

A strange sound came from Rose and Clara looked over to find her bright eyes watching them, mouth falling open on a half grin. "Oh, Clara. He deserves such a smack right now, you don't even know."

Eyes narrowing, Clara turned on the Doctor. "How long ago could I have stopped?"

At first the Doctor looked apologetic, and then he inexplicably lit up, darting a look Rose's way, dark and sly with mischief. "Ten minutes?" he wondered aloud. "Twenty? Twenty...nine?"

Silence. And then, Rose's eyes got big before she burst out with a laugh. The Doctor joined in, pointing at her, pleased as anything.

Clara felt like stomping her foot.

"Oh my god," giggled Rose, hand touching her mouth. "I haven't thought of that in ages- poor Mickey! Remember how annoyed he was with you?"

"You just forgot me!" quipped the Doctor, in a low cockney accent, and that set them both off into further gales of laughter.

Kneading her sore shoulder, Clara released a long sigh. Irritating as this was, part of her was relieved to see the two of them make up. She was sick of the heavy, unspoken tension, even though she had enjoyed its unexpected appearance earlier. Her hopes of it heralding a quick, eternal departure from this place had faded pretty quickly. Maybe if the Doctor had been irritated, annoyed, even outright angry, but he wasn't. Whatever had happened this afternoon had hurt him, deeply, more than Clara had ever seen. When it came to Rose, his hearts were definitely involved, there was no longer any use in denying it.

Her own jealousy had receded a tad, overcome by a fierce wave of protectiveness. For whatever reason, Rose had power over the Doctor. But, in Clara's mind, that did not mean she deserved it.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Clara," Rose was saying, genuinely apologetic as she padded over to the console. "That was nothing to do with you, just a funny thing that happened a long time ago-"

"Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks. It's fine."

The Doctor was opposite them, gaze on the controls, hair flopping over his forehead. "Well," he said casually, without looking up, "just one last thing to do. Have to actually scan the breach with the TARDIS, see if it can pick up the frequency that the other world is running on." Then his eyes lifted, going to Rose, and Clara saw resignation in their depths. "Do you...want to come?"

Rose smiled at him. "Yeah."

He beamed, like she'd just pointed out a brand-new planet. Now a ball of energy, the Doctor raced around the console, manically flipping switches and yanking levers. Clara and Rose both scrambled to get out of his way.

After the customary shuddering and shaking, everything went still and the Doctor switched on the monitor, angling it down toward his face. "Poor blokes," he said, as the three of them took in the view of a quiet neighborhood. There were two men in black, about half a street down, and even Clara could recognize them as UNIT soldiers. "Bet they'll be happy to see us get this resolved. Probably bored out of their bloody minds."

He went to the keyboard, fingers clicking away, and Clara retreated to a jumpseat. Then she noticed that Rose had yet to tear her gaze from the monitor.

A minute or two later, the blonde marched purposefully toward the door.

"What are you doing, Rose?" asked the Doctor, looking up as he heard the lock being flipped.

"I'll just be a mo," said Rose, as she slipped outside without looking back.

After casting a questioning glance over his shoulder toward Clara, the Doctor abandoned what he'd been doing, heading out after Rose.

Clara tried hard not to care what they were up to, but before long her curiosity got the best of her and with a sigh, she went to the door and cracked it open. She found them standing just outside, already deep in conversation.

"...but Doctor, it was sort of a big deal, so I'm not likely to misremember it, yeah? Twas parked right over on that corner." Rose pointed. "By the house with the funny green door. First bit of zeppelin-less sky I'd seen in, gosh, forever. Then UNIT showed up an' scared me to death, cause of course I assumed they were after me. But it was all about the breach, wasn't it?"

"And that's when you took off. Likely right before I got here." The Doctor's face was tight and closed-off, muscle twitching in his clenched jaw.

"Hey," Rose soothed, her hands settling just above his elbows. "It's fine. You still found me. Just not right away. And to be honest, that was for the best."

After a deep breath, the Doctor seemed to relax. "Yeah. I...I suppose that's true."

"It's actually sort of funny, yeah?" Rose gave him a wheedling smile. "You tried and tried to figure out what caused the rift, and never knew that it was _me, _all along. I mean, how mad is that?"

"Oh, I don't know." The Doctor finally cracked a smile. "In some ways, it was almost predictable. Can't believe I never saw it coming." He shook his head. "C'mon now, detective inspector, back on board. We've still got work to do."

Rose saluted him, giggling when he made a face, and then she obeyed, smiling at Clara as she passed her in the doorway. The Doctor paused just outside, and he stared off into the distance, toward the invisible breach and the two soldiers at its corners. His back was to her, but Clara could make out just a bit of his profile.

His expression was so dark that it made her heart skip a beat.

"What's he doing out there?" Rose's voice floated over.

"Um. He's coming," replied Clara, and then she jumped a mile when the Doctor abruptly swung round, blazing-eyed, and delivered a vicious kick to the doorframe.


	17. Chapter 17

**Huge thanks to my lovely beta, YouCleverBoys. :) I am so sorry for the delay on this one. I hope you enjoy it. Time for a major turning point! :)**

* * *

The stars sang, so close that Rose could feel their shimmering warmth on her face, and they were so radiantly beautiful that she couldn't bear to look away.

Pity that she had to; but her eyelids were incredibly heavy. Sleep caught her in its undertow and with a smile she surrendered, nearly gone, and _yes,_ this was where she wanted to be-

All at once a voice rang out, his voice, jerking her abruptly back to consciousness. Now frustrated and more than a little bit angry, she blinked her eyes open to an entirely different sight. Dark chocolate-coloured eyes, as close and as beautiful as the stars had been, searched hers, stormy as she'd ever seen them. All intense and concerned and sad.

His lips formed her name again, softer this time, his full bottom lip protruding slightly. "Rose Tyler."

Struck, she stared, forgetting to ask what he was doing. That mouth of his- it had always savored words, that triad of syllables in particular. How many times had it rolled out her name? How many times had she kissed it?

Millions, probably.

With that thought, every last vestige of anger dissipated, at least until he spoke again.

"I saved you."

Remembrance froze her for a moment, until anger clawed its way back in, raging and fierce. "_No_. No. How many times did I say it? Why can't you ever bloody _listen_?"

His forehead bowed down, touched hers, and she had no idea if the warm wetness trickling down her face was from her or him. "I love you."

No no no no, _no_, that wasn't how they played it. Something clogged her throat, before she could demand he say "you know why", like he always did, or any other flippant equivalent, which would prove that everything was alright.

Anything but _those_ words, especially spoken _that_ way, so sacred and naked and raw. Like this was his last chance to say it and nothing would make him delay, not after learning that lesson the hard way.

Rose tried to stay calm. "What did you do?"

"Don't worry, love, everything is fine," he assured, propping himself above her on elbows. "It's brilliant, even. Guess what?" His smile was a beam of light. "Nothing will ever hurt you again."

The floor pressed into her back, ridged and uncomfortable, but Rose hardly noticed this because all the sadness had gone from his eyes. Their brown depths were jubilant, warm and happy.

No, not brown. Green (how had she forgotten?), and set deep under the brow-bone. But just as warm. Just as joyous.

Just as full of love.

_Too much love? _was the question that niggled.

Rose dismissed it, and smiled at him.

* * *

Rose approached awareness slowly, peacefully, a diver floating to the ocean's surface, only to break it and find herself lost at sea.

Heart racing, she rocketed upright, hands scrambling for purchase on the mattress beneath her. The room was swathed in darkness, but some distant part of her mind knew exactly where she was- her own bedroom, safe at Mickey's, the old clock radio on the table beside her glowing out small blurred numbers.

That part of her mind also knew she'd been asleep- dreaming. It didn't matter, didn't calm her fear in the slightest. Shirt damp, skin hot, she flung the covers back, and fled both bed and room without looking back. Her one conscious thought was persistent and singular.

Get out.

Now. Or he was as good as dead.

Up the stairs, through the house, and out into the night, that thought kept her moving, faster and faster. The first thing she was truly aware of was the chill of the garden shed's cement floor, numbing her feet like ice as she fumbled around with her TARDIS key, unable to properly fit it into the lock. Once the top lamp began to glow obligingly Rose made quick work of it, stumbling through the door and up the ramp to the console.

Two-thirds of the way through the dematerialization sequence, reason began to catch up with her. Breathing hard, Rose stared, unseeing, her white-knuckled hand still gripping the lever. Was she actually going to go through with this? Just...disappearing into the night, without a word of explanation? What would Martha and Mickey think, when morning came and they found her bed empty, her belongings all out abandoned?

Forcing herself to step back, Rose straightened and looked down at her body. Tee-shirt, pajama bottoms and socks. No coat, no shoes, mobile forgotten on her nightstand. Blimey, talk about looking the part of crazy person. Was she really about to make a life-changing decision, spur of the moment, and all because of a nightmare?

Rose pressed her eyes with the heels of her hands, and went to collapse heavily onto a jump-seat. It had been months since that scene had haunted her dreams. A monster she had already faced down and dealt with, so why was she panicking over it now? Yes, the Doctor's new face appearing at the end was a lovely new twist, but dreams could be weird like that. Didn't mean it portended another disaster.

Only, last time it had, though she hadn't understood that until it was too late. Now, knowing the truth, how could she see that dream as anything but the wake-up call she so obviously needed?

But, on the other hand, how could she possibly part ways with him again? Tears pricked her eyes at the very thought and Rose curled up on the seat, tucking her legs underneath her.

There was no denying that what they had between them was immense. The Gallifreyan term he'd used yesterday -kui'la- was really its only proper descriptor. Three simple syllables, meaning love, but not just any love- love in the time-line specific tense. A love that carries on indefinitely, lacking an end-point. An all-consuming emotion that can never be explained, only experienced.

Bad Wolf may have orchestrated all the events that had led to her return here, yet lately, Rose had begun to consider that this love, and not selfishness, had been her motivations. Maybe her reunion with this Doctor wasn't only about fulfilling her own desires. Maybe she was here to make _him_ happy, too.

Her heart _was_ set on him, had been all along if she was honest. All the barriers and walls she'd thrown up in the meantime- now with clarity she saw it was no more than stalling. Buying time, while she waited for a sign from the universe, an assurance that if she plunged back into a life with the Doctor, it was going to be her chance for _giving_, not taking. Never, never again would his loss be her gain.

Rose rested her face on the back cushion of the jump-seat, the worn fabric soft against her cheek, and one terrible phrase rang in her ears.

_I saved you._

If she wanted a sign, well, that dream was it, her worst fear confirmed. There was one last treasure the Wolf wished to gain from the Doctor, and she would not rest until it was hers, ripped from him with destructive claws.

How could she _possibly_ allow that?

Thinking hard, her gaze drifted over the glowing Time Rotor, the partially powered-up console. Of her very limited options, running away was by far the simplest. And she'd already made it this far; she could be gone with the flick of a few more switches, the tug of a lever. Never would she have the guts to follow through in the cold light of day.

Rose's sock-clad feet were quiet on the grating as she went back to the controls, hands hovering only briefly before she flicked off the transit switch. A sense of relief filled her as the console darkened. This was the right decision. No matter the personal cost, she refused to hurt Martha and Mickey.

The Doctor, however...he was going to be hurt either way. Bending forward, Rose wrapped her arms around her belly, sick just thinking of it.

_Hurt-_ the word was laughably inadequate. _Gutted _was closer. What an idiot she'd been, allowing him so close again. At this point, Rose was was sure that nothing she said would convince him to leave, not even the truth. A cruel lie _-I don't want you-_ might have done the trick, but even that was no longer an option.

Her eyes clenched shut. _Bugger_. What had she been thinking, inviting him into her mind? As if she hadn't known full well how intimate it would be. Not that she'd expected to lose control like that, exposing every deep feeling to him, like a candid love letter.

She couldn't lie and she couldn't run, but she also couldn't continue a doomed relationship. To end it? The truth would have to do. He would argue, for sure, and it wouldn't be easy, but when all was said and done, hopefully the Doctor would begin to see how she was no good for him.

Sighing, Rose wound her way down a corridor, in search of shoes and a coat for her trek back up to the house. The hours till morning were sure to be long ones.

* * *

At last dawn arrived, the kitchen window brightening to a washed-out grey. Yet the house slept on, quiet and still, entirely oblivious to Rose's inner turmoil. Fully dressed for the day, cup of tea in hand, she finally forced herself to settle down at the table. Jittery as she was, caffeine maybe wasn't the best idea, but at this point, Rose would take her comfort any way she could get it.

With both hands curled around the overlarge mug, Rose's eyes slipped shut, the sweetly-scented steam warming her chilly nose. After a few slow sips, the tight knot of her stomach loosened some, and Rose slid lower in her seat. Oh, if only she could bottle this moment of serenity. How lovely to remain in limbo here as long as she pleased, and forget that impossible choices existed.

A sudden rattle of the doorknob shattered the peace and Rose recoiled, hot tea sloshing over her hands. "Oi!" she yelped, hastily clunking the mug down on the table right as the Doctor stepped in.

Shaking the scalding drips from her fingers, Rose heard his startled "Sorry!" along with the _thunk_ of the door being hastily shut. He rushed to grab a few paper towels from the roll beside the sink. "Thought everyone would still be sleeping," he explained, pulling a face as he turned to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," said Rose, catching the wad of towels he tossed over. She began wiping her hands. "Just, um, wasn't expecting you to be up quite this early either."

"I didn't sleep," he replied automatically, coming to stand beside her.

"Well, that makes two of us," she muttered, concentrating on mopping up the drips from the tabletop and wishing she could banish him to the other end of the room. God, he smelled good, all woodsy and male and...and Doctor-ish. Part of her hated him for it, just a bit. Why, oh why, did this new incarnation have to be so stupidly attractive? Would it have killed him to be a bit short or fat, or god forbid, _old, _befitting his actual age? But no; bloody git _would_ insist on being a tall, handsome head-turner, down to that lush, gorgeous hair that tempted her fingers. Even the ridiculous purple coat suited his lanky frame perfectly.

Rose could feel his intent gaze. "I said 'didn't', not 'couldn't'. There's a difference, you know."

"Already know all about Time Lord sleep habits, so spare me the lesson, Doctor." She crumpled the paper towel and tossed it on the table. "And if this is just you being pedantic, don't."

He went quiet, until Rose had to look up at him. "It was more me wondering what might have kept you up last night. Are you all right?"

"M'fine," she said, gaze flicking down before he got a chance to guess at what was really on her mind. "Sorry I snapped at you." She twitched her fingers toward the kettle on the counter. "There's tea, if you want."

The Doctor glanced toward it, then back at her, hesitant. "Ehm, no. I was just...popping in, actually. Thing is, I really need to figure out some way to nail down the frequency for that neighboring universe. Might be fussing with it all day. Thought I'd just...well." He backed up, gesturing toward the door with his thumb. "You'll probably just be bored."

Taken aback, Rose studied him. Was he...ditching her? Under her scrutiny the Doctor tried to smile, looking uncomfortable as all get out, which only confirmed her suspicions.

Her eyebrows drew together. Well, that wasn't gonna happen. If she didn't get to do a runner, then he sure wasn't either. She'd lose her mind if she had to agonize over this for another week.

"What? So that's it, then?" Resigning herself to addressing their issues right out of the gate, Rose slowly pushed back her chair and stood. "We don't talk about what's really going on here, we just avoid each other?"

He slumped, running a hand along the edge of the counter. "I'm not...avoiding. What I just said was true."

Indignant, Rose shook her head. "You thought I'd still be sleeping- what, you were gonna leave me a _note_?"

"Would that have been so wrong?" The Doctor shrugged.

Rose shrugged back. "Dunno. Might be nice to hear you say it to my face, that you don't want me around."

His eyes flashed as they snapped to hers. "Or maybe our real, actual problem is that I want you around a bit _too_ much. Maybe I just thought you'd appreciate a break."

_A break. _Remembering her actual intentions, Rose dropped her gaze to her hands, cheeks heating.

The Doctor fiddled with a drawer, sliding it in and out, and when he spoke again his low tone was laced with hurt. "I know I pushed for too much yesterday, Rose. You're scared; I get it. Your...other Doctor...he died for you, and for some reason you think that you're putting me in danger too."

He paused, waiting for a sign from her that he was on the right track, and she nodded.

"Thing is, I can't...just forget what I saw in your mind. Even after going over and over it- and trust me, I didn't do much else last night- I don't get why some..." Slamming the drawer again, he pushed away from the counter. "Why some hazy what-if should keep us from being happy. Especially since in your heart, you're already my wife. On Gallifrey, sharing such a thing was equivalent to a marriage proposal."

"I didn't know," replied Rose quietly, casting her eyes to the table.

"It's not that I'm trying to hold you to the customs of a planet that's long dead," he rushed to explain. "It's just...it means that one person is certain of another. Which, if you think about it, is fairly important if you're going to be locked into a mental bond with them for all of eternity."

He paused, clearing his throat, but Rose didn't look at him. Such personal talk had never come easily even for her husband, and no doubt the full Time Lord had spent centuries avoiding such subjects. If she met his eyes now it might spook him away from his point entirely.

After a few beats she heard him gather his courage on an indrawn breath. "Anyway. I suppose...I need an explanation, Rose. What's holding you back? You're certain of me, and the entire sodding universe knows that I'm certain of you." The Doctor yanked his collar, loosening his bow-tie. "Have been since, blimey, big ears and leather, and let me tell you, that's been awhile."

_An explanation. _Rose looked up, rubbing an eye as she sought how to make him understand the danger he was in. But on catching sight of him, every ounce of her determined strength evaporated.

Hands twisting together anxiously, the Doctor's eyes were fixed on her, open and unguarded, their expressive emotional depths on full-colour display. And once again, Rose felt burdened with the weight of unwanted power. He hadn't yet put it in words, but here in this moment, the unabashed, darkly desperate _love_ in his gaze was clearer and louder than any shout to the world.

Trembling, she forced her own gaze down, to the half-full mug of tea, and was struck with an intense urge to snatch it up and hurl it against a wall. How the hell had they ended up here? The Doctor was awaiting her answer with all the fear and hope of a man on trial, as if what happened next would either save or destroy him. It was all so impossible, so _unfair. _No matter what choice she made, it was wrong.

There was a metallic clunking sound of him messing with something on the countertop, like he couldn't stand the silence. "Or is it that it's just too soon? I'm not the most patient of people, I know that. But I'll- I'll try to be. All I want is to understand."

Rose took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and willed herself to speak. "Bad Wolf. She's throwing us together, and it's not out of kindness."

He was quiet for so long that she was compelled to look his way. "I remember you mentioned Bad Wolf once before, that night outside the cafe. In the rain. I thought it was just the panic talking."

She shook her head. "I'll explain, but...can we please sit? This feels like we're facing off and it's making me nervous."

Without taking his eyes from her face, the Doctor stepped forward, slid a chair from the table, and sat.

Rose reclaimed her own seat, across from him. "I...um." Idly, she picked up the mug and swirled its cold contents. "I want you to think back to the Game Station, alright? To what happened on Satellite Five, right after I got the TARDIS to bring me back."

His Adam's apple bobbed. Though Rose knew every detail of this story, she was sure that the only time this Doctor had ever openly discussed it was once before, with Jack. "You terrified me," he admitted. "Those doors opened and there you were, gold and glowing, all of time and space running through your head."

"Why were you so scared?"

"Because no one's meant to have that kind of power."

"Especially not a silly, selfish teenage girl, whose most consuming wish was for the love of a man she couldn't have. 'The laws of time are mine'," she quoted, and heard his breath hitch. "On that day I defeated the Daleks and I saved Jack, and then I did something else. I set things in motion so that in due time, I would get everything I ever wanted."

Rose sat back in her chair, curling her toes in her socks. "I knew it was true, soon as I heard the story, and I hated it. But after awhile I didn't think about it much, cause I felt like at least you- the other you- he was happy too, so I thought that maybe giving us a human life together wasn't so selfish after all. It wasn't till much later-" Sniffing, Rose blinked rapidly, looking away. "After he died. That's when I discovered the extent of all the gifts I'd planned out for myself."

The Doctor bent forward over the table, his eyes shrewd and wise. "Like another life with me, for example?"

"That's only one part of it," she replied in a small voice, picking at the ends of a tendril of hair. "But even on its own, isn't that just beyond selfish? One of you should have been enough. _More_ than."

"I beg to differ," said the Doctor with a tiny laugh. "And if Bad Wolf is truly behind your return to me, I'll thank her every day."

"But Doctor, you don't get it. None of this is without price. And the one who always pays it is _you_. Bad Wolf is the reason you died for me after the Game Station, and the reason you were shot on the night we were reunited. Because of Bad Wolf you left me with your other self, so I could also stay with my family. And then he..." Rose glanced at him, her throat tight.

"He gave his life for you too," the Doctor concluded, softly. "Good man."

Indignation cut through her sorrow like a knife. "How- how can you even _say _that?" stuttered Rose.

The Doctor was unrepentant. "Because it's _true. _And because you _badly_ need to gain some perspective. There is no greater act of love, Rose, than to give your life for someone. You've been seeing all of it as, as Bad Wolf just taking, being selfish, but I disagree. If I gave my life for you at any time, it wasn't because of fate, or because the universe dictated it. My life, my choice."

Her eyes welled up. "Well, it's a bloody stupid choice. And it was bad enough for him to do it, but you are the _last_ Time Lord. The universe _needs_ you, and I can't let you deny her because of me."

Exasperated, the Doctor held his hands out. "The universe is also big and ridiculous and _dangerous_. I could get killed anywhere, any time. I could lose _you_. And a long time ago, that same fear led to one of my greatest regrets."

Bowing her head, Rose dug at the spot between her eyes with a finger. "That's true, all of it. But there's still one piece you're missing. You don't know how he died. What he _did_. And it's not over. I know you, Doctor. You're him. Given half a chance, you'll do the same, which is exactly what the Wolf wants. For you to finish what he started."

"Blimey," replied the Doctor, scratching his head, "and here I thought I was the king of enigmatic." He was trying for levity, but his voice was strained. "Best tell me what happened, then, so I can disagree with you."

She glared. "How stupid would I have to be, Doctor? M'not putting that idea in your head. Besides, you'll think of it when the time comes, all on your own." Rose looked past him, to the fluttering tree branches outside the window. "Or you would, anyway."

"If we were together, you mean." His nostrils flared as he breathed slowly, in and out, clearly making an effort to keep it together. "But we won't be. That's what you're working up to, right? You mean to tell me '_no'_. Adieu, adios, goodbye; I could see it in your eyes the second I walked in here. Over what? A fear? And I'm sorry, but it's not even a _rational_ fear, at least not based upon what I've heard thus far-"

He was angry now, sarcastic, but it was the shakiness in his voice that pierced Rose to the core. "Before I lost him, I had these dreams about it," she got out, just managing to swallow a sob. The tears, however, refused to be held back, and she swiped at them, one after another. "The same dream, again and again, and it came _true_. Only last night it was _you."_

"Hey," she heard him say, contrite, from somewhere above her, and then with a flurry of motion he was in the chair beside her, his hands on her arms. "I'm sorry."

Without even thinking she buried her face in his chest, heard his chair scrape the floor as he instantly slid closer, his strong arms encircling her, squeezing her tight. Rose breathed him in, his double heartsbeat fast and incredibly familiar.

"Don't cry, Rose," he soothed, which only made the tears come quicker. One cool hand slid up her back, settling between her shoulder blades, stroking gently as the minutes passed, until she felt safer than she had in ages. "Tell me about your dream," he requested, once her breath slowed. "Please?"

"Um." Rose shifted in his arms, laying her cheek again his chest, and her fingers found the fine gold chain of his waistcoat. "It's really abstract, at first. Like, everything is beautiful and I feel safe and happy, until he says that he saved me. Then I'm so angry, but he reassures and reassures, says everything is fine, which is why the dream never worried me much. Not until all of it actually happened and he," she choked in a breath, "hewent and _died."_

He cuddled her tighter. "How many times did you have the dream before it happened?"

"I don't know," Rose whispered, thinking. "They started a few weeks beforehand, but it wasn't every night or anything. Had them afterward, too, for awhile, but then they stopped. Last night was the first time in months."

"Dreams are funny things, sometimes. Did your husband ever tell you that the reason I knew to come help you two that time was because of a dream? The TARDIS was behind it, the clever girl. But before I knew what it really meant, it terrified me."

"I know what mine meant," she said, stubbornly.

"But that's just it- do you? Why are you so convinced it's a warning?"

Rose huffed at him, but didn't move from his arms. "Doctor. When it came true, it was the worst day of my life. He was everything to me, and then he was gone-" She closed her eyes. "You'd be so upset with me if I told you half of what I did afterwards. I just missed him so much and I felt so, so guilty-"

"His choice, Rose," he gently reminded her. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it? Cause the way I figure, it was. Those few minutes as the Wolf, when I controlled time, I made that happen." Tilting her damp face up, she met the Doctor's eyes. "Even gave myself a nice little dream, so I'd be prepared for it. God, in the dream I'm even _happy _about it!"

He shook his head at her, brows raised. "No. That's not you. I can't imagine any situation in which you'd be happy about him dying, or me, for that matter. So that part _didn't _come true."

"Not yet, maybe," she replied, slowly, sitting up straight to look at him properly.

The Doctor slid his hands down, taking hold of her wrists. "Okay. You think Bad Wolf is behind all this, pushing you and I together. Remember what I said before, about you needing perspective? Well, to me, this dream of yours is just the latest in an endless list of things to _get in our way_. If it wasn't my own fears, then it was the void or a Dalek or a war or a ready-made husband. I'm forced to make my peace with that, but then you come back. Only you're determined not to be with me. But I can't accept that, so I fight it, and it's working; we get so close, so close to having it _all, _and-"

He trailed off, eyes going to his ever-tightening grip on her wrists. With effort, he let go. "And then it's snatched away again, by a nightmare and...other things, dangled just out of my reach, until I can't help but feel like I'm bloody Tantalus."

Mind whirring, Rose stared at him, trying to absorb this. In all the hours she'd spent poring over this situation, how had she never seen his side of things? How it was so entirely different from her own? Contradictory, even. So which of them was right?

"But what I really want to know," declared the Doctor, suddenly popping up, "is why the sodding universe even gets a say in the matter." He pulled her to her feet. "You and me, Rose Tyler. Isn't this between us, and us only?"

"Where are we going?" she asked, breathless more from his statement than from the sudden activity. It stirred something deep inside her, a bit of the indomitable spirit she'd always had when it was her and him together, old Shiver and Shake, Lewis and Sarge, fighting against the odds.

"To make a decision." Snatching her coat from the hook beside the door, he thrust it at her. "To prove a point."

Rose jammed an arm into it as she followed him out into the chilly morning. "What are you on about?" she called, as he was already a few paces ahead of her, striding across the crunchy grass. "Wait a mo', I should leave a note!"

"Time machine," he tossed back, over his shoulder, coat-tails billowing.

She jogged to catch up, asking no more questions. "Best if we don't disturb Clara," he said, by way of explanation when his long strides headed for the shed at the back of the garden.

"All right," she agreed, suddenly realizing how eager she was to show him her TARDIS. They entered the shed, and as she pulled her key from layers of coat and shirt, she took note of his smile for the blue police box.

"Well?" said Rose impatiently a minute later, hands on her hips. They stood on the ramp, as the Doctor inspected everything from coral struts to metal grating. She did not quite like the look on his face.

The Doctor's gaze traveled the length of the room once more. "Never grew out of his grunge phase, did he?" he commented, skipping away to the console.

"Oi," she replied, smacking him lightly as he started up the dematerialization sequence. "She's beautiful like this an' you know it."

He hummed, unconvinced, and then grinned at her, so saucily that she decided not to make a fuss about him flying her ship.

The final lever was thrown and the ship shuddered, and for the next few moments everything was so right and normal that Rose forgot to be worried about where they were going.

All concern came rushing back, the moment they stepped outside. It was London again, same little neighborhood as yesterday. Shivering, Rose zipped her jacket, although the temp was much warmer here than back home. "Why did you bring me here?"

The Doctor stood at her elbow, facing the soldiers who stood at a distance down the street from them, yet ignoring their interested expressions. "Because we've come to a fork in the road, and it's here. Now."

She turned, looking up at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. His profile was serious, the breeze ruffling his thick hair. "I can't close that breach, Rose. I thought I could, but as soon I found out it was a TARDIS that created it I knew-"

Her heart sped as she filled in the blanks. "I have to go back," she finished for him, eyes tracing the sky as if she could somehow pick out the invisible mar. "That's part of what you meant, earlier, when you said the universe keeps tryin' to separate us." When the Doctor didn't answer, she swallowed, running a hand over her rough, windblown hair. "Didn't think you meant it quite so literally."

At that he swung to face her, intensity in every line of his face. "Don't you get it yet, Rose? You don't _have_ to do anything. It's not fate, it's not up to the universe, it's your choice, okay? You really think Bad Wolf is out to get me, well." His gaze flickered down the street, then back to her again. "There's your out. You can return to your parallel world, where I can't follow, and never risk anything ever again. Or..."

"Or?" she prompted, holding her breath.

"Or you stay." Hands fisting, he watched her closely. "We fight the impossible, together, like we always do."

Rose held his gaze for long seconds, then looked to the horizon. This was it, her answer, the way out she'd been looking for. That howling void could separate them once again, only this time she wouldn't go kicking and screaming. She would do it on purpose.

Something primal, deep within her, rebelled at the very idea.

Her choice.

"And if I go?" she ventured slowly, eyes returning to the man she loved. "What do you do?"

Momentarily confused, the Doctor's brow furrowed, and then a spark flared bright in his eyes as he recognized her questions, borrowed from their past. "Well," he said, thinking hard, like he meant to get the reply just right. "Back to the TARDIS. Same old life."

"On your own?"

"Why?" He expelled a long breath, eyes riveted to her. "Don't you want to come?"

Rose's fingers traveled her jawline. All along, she and the Doctor had been playing opposite sides, but now it was time for a change-up. The two of them against the universe. As it should be.

Her toes tingled, her fingers, gooseflesh prickling her skin as Rose felt her smile break out, like it was the first one to know what her answer would be.

"Yeah."


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you all so much for being patient with me. I hope future updates won't take nearly this long- I was on vacation in the midst of writing this and lost a ton of momentum. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :)**

* * *

_"Why?" The Doctor expelled a long breath, eyes riveted to her. "Don't you want to come?"_

_Rose's smile broke out. "Yeah."_

* * *

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

If nothing else good came from that disastrous marriage proposal, the Doctor had at least learned that. So as they celebrated with a long, tight hug, that rooted thought steadied him, no matter how much his head spun, joy fizzing up his blood like champagne. No matter how relentless the itch to just sweep her into his arms and carry her off into the sunset (or sunrise, as it was).

The him of a few days ago might have tried it- because in his own mind, this was a done deal. Out of everything, Rose's continued indecision had been his main worry, and now that she'd chosen him -chosen _them_\- it was all downhill from here. Especially once that nuisance of a breach was dealt with.

But now that he wasn't so singly focused on his own perspective, he realised Rose would see complications. To her, the rift was a big, gaping threat, just waiting to separate them. And that aside, the timing wasn't right. For one, Clara was still living with him, and would be until her kidnappers were off the streets. And while a trio on the TARDIS had worked out well in the past, this one would be the very definition of "three's a crowd". Then there was Rose's life on Earth, the job she loved. Squaring things away would take time.

Painful and hard to accept as it was, Rose had been right to refuse to marry him yesterday. But it was okay. He could wait. All that mattered was that after all this time, they were finally, _finally_ a proper couple.

Weren't they?

A weird gap remained between them, and as the day progressed Rose seemed happy to let other people fill it. She had been like a live wire all day; flitting about the Smiths' kitchen as she whipped up breakfast for their small crowd, chattering brightly, then later chasing Charlie in the back garden. The Doctor couldn't persuade her to settle down at his side for a second, much less get her alone.

Rose was all nervous energy with no proper outlet- at least, not now that she'd (apparently) decided to stop running from him. Whereas the Doctor was tired. Tired of holding back, tired of distance. It wasn't as if he was expecting to blaze across their set physical boundaries, but he longed for easiness between them. Intimacy. For their...couple-y status to be clearly defined.

And he was kicking himself, because that could have been settled during the precious hour they'd had to themselves this morning. Of course, before their quick return to their friends, it hadn't occurred to the Doctor that it still _needed_ settling. He had already...assumed. Big, long-time fan of assumptions he was, finding them infinitely preferable to difficult conversations. Problem was, he was also finding that assumptions, like everything else in his bag of social tricks, didn't help him much in a real relationship.

_Kissing would help_, was the Doctor's slightly bitter thought as he traced a fingertip through the condensation on his water glass. _That would break the ice once and for all._

No use whinging about it. Kissing was off the table until there was solid commitment between them, and for the time being any meaningful discussion seemed just as unlikely. Tonight their group had dwindled to three; him, Rose and Clara, dining out in a restaurant located on a small outlying planet which orbited the star Deneb. It was an old favourite of Amy and Rory's, and for the first time the Doctor truly understood why he'd dropped them off here so regularly- yes, its curved transparent walls offered the galaxy's best view of the stunning Pelican nebula, but it also had cushy booths and candlelight, a highly romantic atmosphere. Rose and Clara were quite taken with the place, their gazes lingering on the dramatic skyscape.

For a silver lining, at least those two were warming toward each other. Hearing soft giggles, the Doctor redirected enough of his attention back to the conversation in time to hear Rose tell Clara how much one of Artie's stunts reminded her of her brother Tony. Must be bonding over the trials of dealing with pre-pubescent boys. Next it'd probably be the trials of dealing with him.

He didn't care. Disappointment had settled in big time, an emptiness in his belly that nothing but answers (or attention) could fill. What exactly had he hoped to accomplish, choosing such a romantic locale when they weren't even alone? This obviously wasn't a date.

Ostensibly, this trip was for Clara. He couldn't recall why, exactly, just that Rose had said something about his companion having earned it. The Doctor figured it was just another way to keep him at arm's length.

"Back in a mo'," said Clara, seat cushion shifting as she slid from the bench beside him. "Loo," she informed his questioning look, and he nodded.

As she padded away he looked at Rose, who had planted herself across from him, frustratingly out of reach. Her hair was down tonight, falling over her shoulders, and the nearby astral splendor tinted the golden waves with fire and crimson. It taunted him, his hands clenching into fists against his thighs, staving off the desire to touch.

Eyes riveted to the glowing, multi-hued view, Rose seemed to have forgotten where she was, her thoughts drifting almost visibly to places unknown.

"Penny for 'em," he said quietly, leaning toward her on elbows.

After a few blinks, Rose tore her gaze from the window and offered him a crooked smile. "Oh, dunno. I was just...staring at the nebula, I suppose. Thinking about what you said earlier, that how even a few million years from now, it'll still be here, though it might change. Might not look like a pelican anymore."

"And?" he prodded, sensing that wasn't all of it.

Rose took a sip of her wine. "And," she said slowly, "it reminds me of you. Reminds me of...some of the differences between us. How you've been around practically forever, and will be...and then I think, what if you really _are_ right about this whole thing? That us being together isn't fate, not Bad Wolf, it's just what we decided...then chances are that you'll outlive me. By a _lot_."

"I know this is something you've already thought about," she rushed on, before he could get a word out. "But now I truly get it, why it used to bother you so much-"

"Rose, Rose," he interrupted, his body moving on instinct, sliding onto the bench beside her. "I thought we were getting past this sort of stuff?"

She frowned, carefully setting her stemmed glass on the table. "Getting past things doesn't mean ignoring them, Doctor."

"Oi, who says I don't want to talk? Kept waiting for a chance for it all day, in fact. Only you were too...busy, or something."

Rose looked away, cheeks colouring. "I'm sorry. I think I just...needed space, for a bit, to let it all sink in. I mean, this morning, when I decided to stay- that was a really big deal for me."

He nodded, fingers drumming restlessly on the table. "And how are you feeling about it now?"

Inhaling, Rose met his eyes and then smiled at him. "Good. I feel good about it. And...happy."

"You sure?" The Doctor eased closer, into the middle of the booth, hiding a wince when she tensed, even though she was nodding in reassurance. "Then why do I get the feeling that you'd be even happier if I went back to the other side of the table?"

One of her brows raised slightly, and Rose eyed him like she was trying to decide if he was being rude or just stupid. "Clara, for one," she stated meaningfully.

He let his head drop back against the cushions. "It wasn't my idea to bring her here."

"Doctor. That's exactly my point. She's used to getting all your attention, but for the past two days you've practically ignored her."

"She's fine."

"She's not. And I should know, because I remember how it felt when I met Sarah Jane and you two weren't even..."

"'Weren't even' what?"

Rose's lips pursed. "And you were just friends. How much have you even told her?"

"Told Clara? About us?" He shrugged. "Enough."

"Ha, that's rubbish. She hardly says a word, just watches us, like we're a puzzle or something. Like she's trying to figure us out." The Doctor barely suppressed a snort; Clara was hardly the only one wondering. "Tell you what else," Rose went on, shifting sideways on the bench so she could face him better, "she doesn't trust me an' I don't blame her. Your dumping her into the middle of all this was really unfair. Last thing we need to do tonight is rub it in her face."

Privately he figured Clara needed to get used to it, and quick, especially since he had no intention of leaving the cosy little Rose corner he'd wormed his way into. "Yes, well, Clara will be with me all next week, while you're back to your job. So for the time being, both of you will have to forgive me if I want to make the most of _our_ time together. I'm a hopeless case, I'm afraid."

Rose fought a smile and inside, he fist-pumped. "You're somethin'," she said, into her wineglass. "Hopeless, and lots of other things. You could work a bit on the openness. So if Clara asks you any questions next week, will you please at least attempt to answer them?"

"Fine," he agreed easily, tugging at his shirt cuffs. "But for now, no more Clara-talk. We need to address this other concern of yours before she returns."

The Doctor leaned toward her as he spoke, chin tucked, and swallowed the urge to trail his fingers along the soft curve of her cheek. "No more regrets," he said, earnestness thick in his throat. "Long time ago, this old fool believed that he could keep himself from being too sad later, if he denied himself real happiness _now_. It was a terrible mistake. Living life, Rose, really living it, means you grab hold of happiness whenever you get the chance, even if it's only for a month, for a day. Even if this right here-" with a hand, he indicated their little booth "-is all we get, it's worth it."

Lips crooking up, Rose sniffled, her eyes a tad wet. "That last one better not be the case, or I'll be sorry that this isn't a real date."

"_Isn't _it?" said the Doctor, wrinkling his nose in mock-confusion. Rose laughed, giving his upper arm a smack. With a grin he stretched out, rubbing at his (not) sore bicep, and then took smooth advantage of their proximity, hooking his arm around her shoulders.

"Doctor," she reproached half-heartedly. "We talked about this. Don't want Clara to feel like she's the third wheel."

"Hmm, you're right, forgot about that." He made no effort to remove his arm. "Suppose I could just send her back to the TARDIS."

Rose shook with silent giggles. "Oh yes, before our food's even come, 'm sure she'd love that. Such a thoughtful one, you are."

"Thoughtful, hopeless, clever..." the Doctor paused, drawing his thumb across the curve of her shoulder. "...romantic?"

"That right?" breathed Rose, as his thumb moved again, stroking in circular patterns.

"Well, maybe," he said, voice going soft. "Rather untested. But I was wondering if you and I could, ah, go somewhere else later? After this. It won't be that late yet."

"Just you and I?"

He nodded, and Rose took a deep breath. "Not sure that's the best idea. Not because I don't want to, cause I do. I really do. But we gotta be careful, you know? And after...well, you remember what almost happened yesterday and I don't...I mean, is it a good idea for us to spend too much time alone right now?"

Visions from the day prior flooded him, along with echoes of the powerful urges he'd felt, overwhelming him until he'd come within a breath of kissing her, of _bonding _with her. Perhaps Rose had a point. _Could_ he walk alone with her in the starlight, hold her hand and share secrets, without yearning, at the end of it all, to shove her up against the nearest vertical surface and snog her senseless?

It was very, very doubtful.

"Suppose not," he said with a sigh, but then suddenly grinned down at her, preening. "Because you don't trust yourself around a sexy bloke like me. It's understandable."

"Git." Rose tried her best to look indignant, but she couldn't help but laugh.

The Doctor laughed too, giddiness making him brave enough to slide his arm down around her lower back, and felt like the slow way she settled in against it might be an answer to all of his questions. Tentatively, his fingers curved around her, just below her ribcage, and oh, she was so warm, her skin's heat radiating through the soft cashmere of her jumper. It lured his hand even further, down into the dip of her waist, tugging. With a soft exhale Rose relaxed, the lines of her body molding to his, side to side, her head dropping to rest against his shoulder.

Silken hair slid against his cheek, its scent sweet and tantalizing. With effort the Doctor regulated his breathing. All he wanted was to nuzzle his nose into the soft strands and let his eyes slip shut, let everything else just blur away.

"Do you think it's a good idea, us getting close like this?" asked Rose, fingers playing with one of his coat buttons. "I'm not just worried about what Clara will think. That rift...it scares me. What if I have to go back after all?"

"Rose Tyler, what sort of defeatist talk is this? We'll sort it. We always do."

"Not always," she whispered. "You have no clue what to do next, I know you don't. Else you wouldn't have been so keen to put it off today."

"Since when has a lack of a plan ever stopped me? Did you ever consider that maybe I simply had better things to do?"

He heard her small snort. "We didn't do _anything_."

"Huh. Here I thought we accomplished a _lot._" The Doctor halted. "Look at us," he went on quietly, unable to keep the awe from his voice. "Just sitting here, together. Like a...proper couple."

Trepidatiously he awaited her response, but just as he felt her take a breath the petite form of Clara appeared, just a few tables away. Quickly, Rose lifted her head from his shoulder and tried to move away, but the Doctor refused to budge his arm from her waist.

"Doctor..." said Rose under her breath.

"What? I thought you wanted me to start being more open."

Clara slid into the now-empty bench across from them, one eyebrow quirked. At first nobody said anything, the silence awkward, until Clara gave up and spoke. "So I leave for ten minutes and that's when things happen, yeah? Care to share what I've missed this time?"

"Well, it wasn't the food, if that's what you're worried about," said the Doctor. "Blimey, it's a wait- ow!" His gaze went down, to where Rose had just pinched his leg. "What? Oh." When he looked up, Clara had leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. "I mean yes, you have missed something. Well, Rose thinks you have anyway."

"Oi, that's not what I said-"

"All right then," said Clara, in a clear voice. "I'm all ears. Unless you'd rather change the subject and let me make my own assumptions, as usual."

"Assumptions?" said the Doctor. "Like what?"

Clara stared, twisting an earring. "You want to know what I think? Honestly?" At his nod, her brown eyes shifted to Rose. "Okay. He's crazy about you," said Clara frankly. "Which I'm sure is no great revelation. But whatever it is that you guys have going on..." Her wide brows drew together, a concerned line forming between them. "It seems to be really unhealthy. All hot and cold, and I'm sorry, Rose, but so far I can't pinpoint at all how you feel about him. Yesterday you fight, then you're friends, and today you mostly ignore him, and now you two're all...cuddly?"

Her hand went up, before either of them could respond. "You know what? Forget all that. What I really want to know is why you two aren't together, if this has been going on for as long as he says it has?"

From the corner of his eye he snuck a glance at Rose, saw her smile softly. "Good questions, Clara. You're worried about him, and for whatever it's worth, I appreciate that. But if I might, I'd like to clear a couple things up? First off, I get why it seems like I'm leading him on, but please know, the Doctor has always been very well aware of how I feel about him. And the second is that we...we _are_ together."

It took a few heartbeats for her words to sink in, and then the Doctor's breath hitched, especially when Rose's hot hand was laid just above his knee.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not quite convinced," said Clara, scrutiny in her eyes. "Considering how surprised the Doctor looks right now."

"Not surprised," he countered. "It was just...nice to hear it."

Clara went quiet, fingers stroking her chin, and then pinned Rose with another forthright question. "Okay. Timing. You decided this now...why? Maybe because I'm around?"

"I'm not acting out of jealousy." Rose was unflustered. "If that's what you mean. This is just...very new. But it's been a long time coming, I guess you could say."

"And when you say 'long'?"

Rose briefly met his eyes. "Technically, the Doctor and I first met in 2005. But in reality, it's...well. Much more complicated than that."

"Isn't it always?" Clara waved a hand, and then gulped down some of her own drink- a bright pink concoction that probably didn't taste as good as it looked. "Guess I should just be happy that nobody said timey-wimey," she added as she set the glass down, sending a pointed look to the Doctor. "Won't distract me from the fact that you're dancing around my questions, though."

"'M not trying to be difficult," assured Rose. "I don't know if I could figure the years if I tried. Plus, it's different for both of us. The Doctor probably knows how long it's been for him, but good luck getting him to admit it."

The Doctor gazed down at the woman tucked into his side. "Two faces ago," he suggested.

"Three," she modified, with a tiny smile, before turning back to Clara. "Please say that he's told you about regeneration."

An impatient sound came from his throat. "Yes, yes, of course I have-"

"Oi," said Rose, "you have no right to get huffy. Your idea of warning me was to say 'I might end up with two heads', about ten seconds before you burst into flames-"

"Wait." Clara's eyes were extra round. "Really? Two heads? That can happen?"

"No," inserted Rose. "Which is exactly my point. The little information I did get from him wasn't even accurate!"

The Doctor felt the need to defend himself. "I was only trying to lighten up a very stressful situation!"

"Okay, okay." Clara shook her head as if to clear it. "Fascinating and extremely confusing as all of this is, it doesn't matter. I still don't know _why_ it's taken you both such a long time to decide to be..._together, _whatever that means. Like, will Rose be traveling with us now?"

Rose picked up her wine glass and swirled it. "No. At least, not yet. I mean, I have my job and..." Sighing, she paused and took a sip. "Okay, I'm not being entirely honest. It's more that the Doctor and I...we have some things we still need to work through."

Clara averted her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear, and the Doctor could see her exasperation. She'd obviously convinced herself that Rose was playing games with him. It needed correcting.

"It's not like that." The Doctor tapped the table, drawing her attention. "Look. Years ago, Rose Tyler promised me _everything_. Gave up her life on Earth, her mum and her friends, saying she'd stay with me forever. While Rose has always, _always_ done everything in her power to live up to that, I, unfortunately, have not. Danger would arise and I'd try to send her away. And then, due to my own stupidity, I eventually lost her."

Head tipping back, he stared out at the stars. "_Literally_ lost her. Through a breach in reality, just like the one you saw yesterday."

"How did that happen?"

"There was a battle," he went on, without looking at either of them. "The infamous battle at Canary Wharf; I'm sure you've heard of it. Rose and I were there, as well as Daleks and Cybermen and...well. I sent them into the Void, but in the midst of it all there was an...an accident. Rose ended up trapped in a parallel world." Swallowing, his arm tightened around Rose, and he felt her rub his knee gently. "Walls were closed; I was able to send her a message but physically, I couldn't get through. Couldn't rescue her. But then," he added, pride blooming in his voice, "a few years later, she figured out a way back and rescued _me_."

He felt Rose tense. "Got you killed, you mean." Jaw going tight, the Doctor looked at her reproachfully.

"Canary Wharf?" Clara echoed. "Morgan- he was the ringleader, you know, of the people who kidnapped me- anyway, he brought that up. Said you were there, Doctor, but mostly talked about how he thought you should go back in time and...undo it, or something crazy like that."

"Believe me," muttered the Doctor darkly, "I thought about it. Was just about mad enough at the time to try it, too. Felt like I lost everything that mattered that day."

And for the first time, real sympathy softened Clara's expression. "But hey, she made it back okay, yeah?"

The Doctor drew a deep breath, not really wanting to admit to what came next. Yet what choice did he have, if he wanted his companion to truly understand?

"Yeah," he agreed. "She did. _Both_ times." His gaze flicked up, meeting Clara's confusion head-on. "The first time Rose came back she saved me, and helped save all of reality. And then, on that very day, I returned her to that blasted alternate universe and abandoned her there again."

"Hey," said Rose, with a yank on his lapel. "You were trying to do right by me. My family was there, and...other things. I was happy."

"And I was _not_," he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. Clara's chin wobbled. "Went quite mad after that. Regenerated. That helped a bit. I...tried my best to get over it, to forget her even, because I never expected... But now she's here." Rubbing his tired eyes, the Doctor looked down at Rose. "And I will _not _let that bloody breach take you from me again."

Rose gave him a tight smile, blinking back tears, before her gaze shifted to Clara. "He means the rift in London. I, um, caused it, a few months ago when I returned to this universe. And so far, the only way to close it is by-"

"No," interrupted the Doctor fiercely, his other arm snaking around Rose's middle until she was secure in his embrace, prepared to keep her there forever if he had to.

"What?" Clara's eyes darted between the two of them. "So you're saying that up until a few months ago, Rose has been living in an alternate universe? Where you left her on _purpose_? Why, Doctor? If you loved her so much, why would you even think of doing something like that?"

Now she sounded sincerely upset, and not with Rose, going by the way her stormy gaze bored into him.

And although he fully deserved it, Rose rescued him anyway. "Don't blame him, Clara. Cause this- this is where it gets complicated."

* * *

Dinner over, Clara trailed behind the Doctor and Rose as they entered the TARDIS, her focus on their entwined hands. Like everything else in the lives of those two, even the small affectionate gesture seemed to have weird complications- Rose's fuzzy blue jumper was kept fastidiously tugged down over her palm and fingers. It made no sense- the Doctor had grabbed Clara by the hand a million times, and aside from the alien chill of his skin, there was nothing abnormal about it. Briefly she considered asking about it, but then figured she had enough to mentally sort through as it was.

After closing the door Clara rested against it, quietly observing as the pair rushed up the stairs like children. Once on the far side of the console, Rose wedged herself in front of the Doctor, beating him to the biggest lever, and then he laughed at her when she couldn't manage to yank it down with her only free hand. Pretending outrage, the blonde tried yanking her other hand away, while the Doctor only mocked her and held tight, refusing to let her escape.

It was such a silly, boyish little game that Clara couldn't help but chuckle as she went and plopped down on a jump-seat. Didn't mesh at all with the picture of him she'd had painted for her earlier, the very alien-ness of which had possibly scared her a teensy bit.

Would definitely take her awhile to reconcile the two.

He was a paradox in a purple coat- the purple coat part she liked, at least he still looked the same. Made her feel a little less overwhelmed. Clara felt silly that the stories about him had gotten to her at all; after all, he _was_ a time-traveling, two-hearted space alien. But that bit she'd long grown accustomed to. Had even begun to wrap her mind around his incredible (and often unbelievable) intelligence. But the "over one-thousand years old" part had never meant much to her until tonight, when she pieced together how actual _centuries_ had passed for the Doctor since he'd fallen in love with this girl.

_That_ was intimidating. Made Clara squirm a bit, any and all of her past crushes seeming comparatively shallow and childish. _Could_ human beings love like that? So deep and devoted and endless? Or, was it a superior emotion for superior beings? Ones who could do things like manipulate time, or re-grow lost limbs and renew their entire biology, time and again so as to live practically forever?

Did owning two literal hearts mean that your metaphorical ones were of double capacity?

Clara wasn't sure. But then she caught a glimpse of the way Rose was smiling at him, like he was everything she'd ever wished for all wrapped up in one tall, gangly package. Maybe such love wasn't out of the reach of mere mortals, after all.

If that's what she was. Rose claimed to be human, but as Clara watched her circle the console, twisting knobs and yanking levers with as much confidence as she'd ever seen from the Time Lord, it seemed more and more unbelievable. But then again, it was always said that married people become one flesh, and this girl had been the wife of the Doctor.

Another Doctor.

Yet the same.

Clara squeezed her eyes shut. Yep, there it was. Official headache.

"Ha!" said Rose, as the ship materialized with barely a quiver. "Beat that for a smooth ride."

"All you did was a quick-return sequence," argued the Doctor. "That wasn't driving. More like...pulling into the driveway."

"Well, I still do it better than you."

He sniffed. "That's because the TARDIS loves you."

"True," said Rose, running her hand fondly over the console.

"C'mon," said Clara, "don't encourage him. He already acts like this machine is alive."

"But she is." Rose looked over at her. "And my TARDIS is her baby. Or sister, maybe?" she amended, looking to the Doctor for clarification. He shrugged. "The other Doctor and I got her when she was just a little branch of coral. They grow, just like other living beings."

Clara absorbed this, then looked at the Doctor. "Would it have been so hard to explain it like that?"

He didn't hear her, following the blonde down the stairs like a puppy. "Thank you for dinner," Rose said to him, one hand flat on the door. "Now, promise me you'll stay out of harm's way this week, okay? An' I don't just mean London. You might be recognized anywhere."

As if the proverbial lightbulb blinked on, the Doctor smugly tilted his head. "I didn't tell you, did I?" He gave his bow-tie a tug. "Almost forgot about it myself. Awhile back, I went and erased every record of myself from history. There's no pictures, no nothing, I never existed. Call me Mister Anonymous." His nose wrinkled. "No, don't. Don't call me that."

Rose smirked, wholly unimpressed. "Yes, and I'm so _sure_ it's stayed that way. Since you never, ever attract even a smidge of attention to yourself."

Clara popped a hand up. "I'm on it," she called across the room, earning a thumbs-up from Rose and a scowl from the Doctor.

The Doctor turned back to Rose. "See you in a few days?"

"Not if I see you first." Rose grinned, and then her eyes went wide. "Oh! I have to look after Charlie on Saturday, I promised it ages ago. It's Martha and Mick's anniversary."

The Doctor twisted the toe of his shoe on the floor. "I don't mind if we stay in."

Rose's reply was soft and Clara's gaze went to her lap, trying not to overhear. As they lingered she got fidgety, first picking lint off her skirt, then shifting sideways to lay her cheek against the back of the seat. With her pinky she traced patterns against the soft fabric. Eons later, when it was still too quiet, she chanced a quick glance over and found them embracing, arms tightly looping each other's waists. Rose, with face tipped up, spoke to the Doctor, who stared at her mouth so intently that Clara stood to go, sure that a snogging session would start any second. No way was she gonna wait that out.

But then a surprise- the Doctor loosened his hold on the girl, visibly reluctant as she backed through the creaking door. Before releasing her swathed hand, he slowly lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm, gazing into her eyes with such sweet adoration that Clara's heart ached.

She'd had her fair share of kisses in her time, but so far, a bloke had never looked at her like that.

Well. Someday one would. And she would be keeping him.

* * *

It was weird, the silent focus with which Morgan worked away at that laptop. Usually he never bothered with the thing, just stood over Karen's shoulder when she had it and barked commands. Stuart was keeping a wary eye on him, no idea if the man would resurface smiling or sullen, or with the worst fit of temper to date. It was always a lottery.

Why Morgan even kept him around was another question, one that nagged at him persistently. Since Oswald's kidnapping and subsequent escape, Stuart had been obliged to abandon both his home and his government job (and also his identity, though that bit had never been any use to Morgan in the first place). He had been recruited as an insider, a source of specialized information, but now he was nothing but a nomad, waking up everyday on an old sofa in a basement. Waking up and wishing he had the guts to just _get out_.

"Made the best decision of my life today," remarked Morgan conversationally, without looking up from his computer.

"Oh?"

"Yep. By not sending you to the stake-out this morning."

Stuart froze, fingers clutching the arm of the sofa. What the heck did that mean? The stake-out was important; it was how they kept tabs on the Time Lord, a trick all the UNIT resources in the world couldn't pull off. Months had passed by and still, by some miracle (or by the grace of God, as Morgan had declared) the "Chiswick anomaly" persisted, and the alien had continued in his trend of showing up at random intervals to (apparently) check on it.

Thankfully, their endgame was not another confrontation, though it was still intimidating.

Get at least one clear photo without getting caught.

Morgan didn't elaborate, and with every click of his mouse Stuart's thoughts ran wilder. How could he have mucked things up? Briggs was the last one of them to catch sight of the Doctor, and he hadn't got _any_ picture. Even so, this didn't bode well, if he was no longer trusted to even _sit in a car_. Was he finally gonna be kicked out? Gaze dropping to the black metal cabinet which he knew held a small cache of weapons, Stuart practically twitched with anxiety. Somehow he doubted that Morgan would end his tenure here by simply escorting him to the door.

His heart nearly stopped when the other man spoke again. "All those chances, and do any of you morons get me a decent picture? Course not. Should've done this myself long time ago."

His voice was even and his face straight, but there was a strange, triumphant sort of gleam in Morgan's eye that clued Stuart in. He released a pent-up breath. "You mean...he showed up today? You got it?"

Smirking, the other man slowly swiveled the laptop around on the tabletop until Stuart had a good view of the screen. It was a clear, full body shot of the Time Lord, eccentric garb and all, and at his side was a young blonde woman. That was new. Frowning, Stuart got to his feet and went over there. No, not new. Where had he seen her before?

Morgan clicked to the next picture, and the next, and by the third one it was easy to see why he had succeeded today when everyone else's efforts had failed. The Doctor was supremely distracted, his full attention devoted to the pretty blonde as the two talked, smiled...and embraced.

"Doesn't look too platonic, does it?" commented Morgan quietly, lips curling with disgust.

"I...I've seen her before. I think. Though it shouldn't be possible." Crouching, Stuart took the mouse and zoomed-in on the girl's face, trying to confirm his suspicions.

"Right, because she's supposed to be dead. Thank god her photo was still included in the list of known companions."

"That's really Rose Tyler?"

"Looks like it."

"But...how? They faked her death? That was years ago. Why-"

Morgan made an impatient sound, and slammed the laptop shut. "Why what? Why does a nice girl run off to shack up with an alien? Who bloody knows? Point is, those two are obviously sleeping together, which makes Rose Tyler our holy grail." Fingers circling his scalp along his creepy scar-line, he went and flung himself down on the couch. "Her mother's dead, supposedly, but Mickey Smith is still around and he was Tyler's childhood friend. She must visit him sometimes. My associates will be keeping a special eye on him and now, thanks to those pictures, they'll know which faces to watch for."

Flushed with victory, the other man was all out grinning- a rare sight, and encouraging enough that Stuart dared to voice one last concern. "But if Rose Tyler means that much to the Time Lord, why would he let her out of his sight right now? Even Clara Oswald is still missing, and probably will be for as long as the Doctor believes us a threat."

"Easy," replied Morgan, tucking Stuart's pillow behind his back and settling back with a contented sigh. Stuart did not at all like the look in his eye. "We _stop_ being a threat. And that, Jenkins, is where you come in."


	19. Chapter 19

**My lovely beta, YouCleverBoys, gets double thanks for editing this beast! Somehow it ended up being even longer than normal. I hope that makes up, at least a little, for the long wait. :)**

* * *

"I'm not much of a fan of telephone calls," said the Doctor, in direct contradiction to his highly enthusiastic greeting a moment earlier. "I could be there in five seconds, if you want a chat."

Pressing _speaker_, Rose tossed her mobile on the bathroom counter so she could towel off her hair. Of course that was the first thing out of his mouth, though they'd discussed why this was not the best idea. _The more I see you, the harder it is to wait_, or _I'm the only person here, and I don't trust us _were valid responses, but after two days apart her resolve was weak. If he pushed at all she just might give in.

So Rose resorted to an old tactic: "I'm not dressed. Just got out of the shower."

Back when they were still dating, that sort of thing had always stunned the human Him into silence. Apparently it worked on this Him too. She stifled a laugh.

"So anyway, you know how I have that whole job thing going on, during the day?" she went on, sitting on the toilet lid to tug her sweats on. "I'm usually there until at least five-thirty. Might even be later, if we have a mission."

"Okay..." The Doctor drew the word out slowly. "So you're bringing that up...as a problem that needs solving?"

"I'm bringing it up so that you'll know, for future reference, that those hours are probably not the best time for us to have long discussions over text about things like whether or not I still love the colour pink."

"Don't start with that again," he replied, going sulky. "I'm trying to forget that part of our conversation. Nobody likes having their illusions shattered, Rose Tyler."

"C'mon." Leaning over the sink, Rose dabbed moisturizer over the clean skin of her face, swiping it across her cheekbones and under her eyes. "I never said that I _don't_ like pink."

"No, all you said was that the reason half of what you owned used to be that colour was because Jackie Tyler was obsessed, and so if anyone was a pink and yellow girl, it was _her_."

"Sorry," said Rose, giggling at the genuine dismay in his words. "But I don't really know why you care so much."

"I have my reasons. I may be persuaded to tell you one of them later. If you're nice."

Rose fished a brush from the drawer. "As long as 'later' is at a time when I'm off the clock," she reminded him, beginning to sort her damp, tangled hair.

"Didn't seem like you minded today," he shot back, cheekily.

He had her there. Her bum still ached from all those hours on an ill-cushioned auditorium seat, courtesy of a day long, mandatory, "Safety and Protocol" weapons conference. Until afternoon rolled around and the Doctor started blowing up her mobile, the day's high point had been the conference director's continued and unfortunate mispronunciation of the first name of one of the two main lecturers -Denis- which had her, Mickey and Matt snickering like a bunch of bored ten-year-olds. "How'd you even do that, anyway? 'S not like you have a mobile."

The Doctor tsk-ed. "You know that impressive, multi-dimensional ship that I have? Travels time and space? As it turns out, it can also manage a _text message_."

"Oh, shush," replied Rose, poking her tongue out at the phone. "Maybe I just have a hard time picturing the oh so impressive Time Lord wasting an entire afternoon with primitive human tech just so he can pester his girlfriend."

Tongue in teeth, she grinned as he sucked in a long breath- undoubtedly at odds over which bit of her statement he ought to pounce on. "Oh, I don't know," he finally said, tone low and unreadable. "Most species will do any number of crazy things if they're motivated enough. "

"Motivated?" It came out a little too breathily and Rose made a face, annoyed with herself- and with him for turning the tables on her, the tosser.

His sigh was deep and long-suffering, yet belied by the absolute smugness emanating from her phone. "Blimey, Rose, you want me to spell it out? I _miss_ you. Quite a lot, all I can think about, actually. UNIT gets the majority of your time, and while I'm being honest, I've been very, very tempted to materialize the TARDIS directly inside that hideous building they call headquarters to steal you away. Only reason I _haven't_ done is that I prefer us being on speaking terms."

Rose was both horrified and more thrilled than she'd ever admit to by such an idea. "I can't even imagine. It was pandemonium around there when you landed the TARDIS in _Uptown_."

"Oh, pandemonium, still nothing when compared to what I did to your last job," dismissed the Doctor. "Although now that I think about it, that method _did _work out rather well. Didn't you settle in on the TARDIS just a few days later?"

His earlier "crazy when motivated" comment made her hesitant to brush this off as an idle threat. "No explosives necessary, okay? I enjoy my job and all, but you know that I won't think twice about giving it up once we have all our other stuff settled, yeah?"

"So...then I'll be allowed to land in a UNIT corridor and steal you away?"

Laughing, Rose grabbed her favourite crimson nail varnish from inside a cabinet and then picked up her mobile from the sink. "We'll talk about it. But for now, ix-nay on stealing me _or_ texting me while I'm at work, yeah?" She opened the bathroom door and then paused, leaning against it. "Cause technically, we aren't supposed to use our personal phone unless it's an emergency."

"What is this I'm hearing? You mean to tell me that you, Rose Tyler, the woman once banished from the kingdom by Queen Victoria herself, has turned model, rule-abiding employee?" His voice dropped to a taunting whisper. "Are you afraid you'll get in _trouble_?"

"No," she retorted, wincing as it came out sounding far too defensive. Crap.

"Ohhhhh," exhaled the Doctor, all gleefully scandalised, like an old lady nosing out a juicy rumour. "You already _did!_"

"_No_," she repeated, wishing she could reach through the phone and smack him. "Shut up."

"C'mon," he prodded. "Something happened. You're supposed to tell me this stuff."

"It wasn't that big a deal, alright? Just a bit...embarrassing, is all. So you know how Micks grabbed my phone that one time? Matt...well, he was on the other side of him, and so he ended up getting a glimpse of our conversation."

Head bumping back against the door, Rose shut her eyes, in an attempt to block out the mortifying memory. It'd been stupid of her to think Mickey wouldn't notice what she was up to, no matter how discreetly she'd been texting, and he was never one to miss a chance to do some major teasing. There'd been a blur of motion and the next thing Rose knew Mickey had her mobile, gleefully pretending shock while Matt peered down at it curiously- and then instantly looked away, red-faced and tight-jawed, his eyes locking studiously on the lecturer.

Worse, by the time she'd recovered enough to snatch her mobile back from her snickering git of a friend, he'd successfully fired off a round of at least fifteen texts to the Doctor, nothing but hearts and kissy-face emojis. (Although when the Doctor found out they weren't from her, his disappointment had been so palpable that Rose had almost regretted telling him.)

"Rose," said the Doctor, voice going serious and maybe a tiny bit possessive, "he had no call to be rude, just because he was jealous."

Pretty rich, thought Rose, but let it slide. "He wasn't rude," she said, deciding he didn't need the details. "I just...felt bad, cause I'm sure it hurt his feelings. That said, he would've had every right to tell me off for messing around, since he is my superior."

She heard him sigh, but to his credit, didn't tell her how to feel. "Well, in theory, you didn't break protocol. After all, I'm an alien and I needed your help. It's practically your job description."

She snorted. "Oh yeah, some emergency, Time Lord. And anyway, my job description is actually something more like 'defending the earth from alien threats'." Twirling the bottle of red varnish in her fingers, Rose considered it for a second and then went to swap it for a bright, rosy pink that she'd not yet tried out. "Surprised you don't know that, being as you were on UNIT's payroll and all."

"Bet Twig-boy would loveto defend _you_ from this alien threat," he muttered.

Rose couldn't help a smile as she ascended the stairs to the lounge, almost positive he'd just recycled one of Donna's old insults. "His name's _Matt_ and he's my friend, so don't get like that. There's a girl who fancies you who's living on your ship and you don't hear me whinging about it."

"Okay, but we've been upfront with her about us. Sounds to me like what's his name is still holding out hope."

Lowering herself onto the sofa, Rose nibbled the end of her thumb. "Okay, you're probably right. But what am I supposed to do? He doesn't get it and I can't explain any more than I already have. I spent months claiming that I had zero interest in dating, which was _true_, but then you come along and suddenly..." She paused, eyes going to a small framed photo sitting on the mantel, of the Smiths and her with a small group of friends, including Matt, from last summer's camping trip. "Somehow he picked up on how serious things are between us already, and I couldn't brush it off when he asked about it. So of course he's convinced that I'm not thinking straight."

"What did he say to you?"

"What?"

"Today," he went on, a tad impatient. "There's more to the story, I can tell."

Biting her lip, Rose fingered the fringe on the pillow beside her. "It was really no big deal. I talked to him a bit at the end of the day, and he, um, wanted to know if I was thinking of moving back to London. To be with you."

"And you told him...?"

"The truth- that it was still early, an' I wasn't sure yet what was going to happen."

Her answer seemed satisfy the Doctor about as much as it had satisfied Matt- not very much at all. "And let me guess," he drawled. "He warned you not to make any hasty decisions."

Rose flushed, glad he couldn't see her. "I know you don't like it, but he's a good guy. Probably just wants to protect me, god knows it's been his job in the field for how long now. And this isn't like with Clara. It's not like I can soothe his fears by giving him a full recounting of our history, now can I?"

"I don't give two figs about his fears. Your life choices are none of his business, and if he doesn't stop sticking his nose in, he and I will have words."

At that she let go of the pillow and sat up straight. "If you even _dare_, I'll..." Rose spluttered, trying to think up a suitable threat. "I'll..."

"Rose, Rose," the Doctor cut in, and the unexpectedly honeyed, teasing way he rolled out her name threw her off. "Don't start making promises that you aren't prepared to keep."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Rose failed to prevent a grin. "Oh, if you were here right now you'd be getting such a smack."

"The good kind or the bad kind?" he questioned, the teasing in his tone going up a notch. "Because the smile in your voice tells me it's a risk worth taking."

"Oh my god," said Rose, laughing outright, butterflies stirring in her belly. "Who _are_ you? You might even be outdoing your last self for most talented flirt."

The Doctor made a pleased sort of noise, and then- "That's a good thing, right?"

"Depends." She hummed, thinking, phone pinched between shoulder and ear. "Did it come with the face? Cause I'd hate to think it's the result of an awful lot of practice."

"I've had...what? I don't-" He sighed. "I don't even know what to say to that. Maybe it's best if we talk about something else."

Snickering, Rose twisted open the nail varnish, propped one bare foot up and stroked a layer of pink over her big toenail. "Any progress with the breach?"

"I have a few ideas," he said vaguely. "Never quite sure how they'll pan out till the end... _But!_ I have news! Can't believe I almost forgot to tell you, and that's your fault, Rose, you're always distracting me away from things-"

"Yeah, yeah. What's going on?"

"UNIT nabbed Stuart Jenkins. Apparently he tried to retrieve something from his house, which was a really stupid move, but anyway, Kate says that so far he's been very cooperative. She's trying to get him to lead them to the rest of the gang's base of operations."

"Clara must be so happy. Is she itching to get home?"

"Oh, possibly," he said, rather off-handedly, and Rose got the impression that the Doctor had devoted very little thought to how his companion felt about the matter. "Whatever the case, you do know that I never intended for her-"

His last words were lost as the house gave a familiar small shudder, the front door opening and closing. A few seconds later Charlie dashed in from the foyer, velcroed Superman trainers clomping, still all zipped up in his puffy red coat.

"Hello there, sweetie!" she greeted him, capping the varnish bottle and beckoning him over. After kissing his little forehead, Rose tugged his knit hat off by the pom-pom and then tickled his nose with it. Charlie crinkled his face up, giggling.

"Sweetie?" the Doctor's bemused voice suddenly piped up in her ear. "Do you...is your heart set on that one? Because there's lots of other endearments, dozens probably, that you might want to test out-"

"'M talking to Charlie," Rose informed him with a laugh, liberating the little boy from his jacket. "Hold on a sec. He and Martha just got home."

"That's me," said Martha cheerfully, tossing her purse onto a chair and taking the boy's coat from Rose. She held it up, stuffing the hat into a sleeve. "Blimey, it's been a long day. D'you think Charlie is big enough to hang this up all by himself?" she wondered aloud to Rose, catching her son's attention.

"Hmm." Rose tapped her chin with exaggerated doubt. "I don't know. Those hooks are pretty high, after all."

"You're right, he's probably too little-"

"I'm big, Mummy!" declared Charlie, jumping, clutching at his mother's sleeve. Martha and Rose shared a grin. "I tan do it!"

Inclining her head, Martha smiled at him, then handed him the coat. "Okay, then, let's see!"

Charlie ran from the room and the Doctor spoke again. "Did I just hear you two use reverse psychology to manipulate a poor little toddler?"

Rose did her best villainous laugh.

"That the Doctor?" asked Martha. At Rose's nod her eyebrows drew together. "Why didn't he just pop in?"

Giving her a look, Rose shook her head, but of course nothing got by the Doctor's freakishly good hearing. "Did Martha say I should-"

"Yes, on Saturday," said Rose hastily, before she could let herself be tempted. "You promised to help me babysit, remember?" Charlie returned, lugging an oversized plastic Tyrannosaur by its tiny arm. He came over, clambering up beside Rose, all perfect baby-smiles, his eyes very bright in spite of his looming bedtime. A second later a green scaly face with white pointed teeth hovered inches from her nose, and roared.

Flinching, Rose leaned away over the arm of the sofa. "If you can handle it," she added into the phone, feeling sharp plastic teeth on the side of her neck.

The Doctor sniffed. "Not sure I like what you're implying."

"Five dollars says you fall asleep before he does."

"You don't want to make that bet."

"Ten."

"Done. Now let me speak to Martha."

Rose frowned, setting Charlie on the floor. "What?"

"Martha," he repeated, very patiently. "I need to ask her something."

Silently, Rose took the phone from her ear and held it out to Martha, shrugging in response to her friend's questioning look.

"Hi, Doctor. What's going on?" Martha went quiet, sinking down into an armchair, and then a minute later she smiled, eyes briefly flicking to Rose. "Yeah, okay. That sounds great...yes, really. Thank you for thinking of it." Her gaze met Rose's again and lingered, her lips quirking coyly. "I won't. Promise. All right, I'll see ya later."

"What did he say?" Rose mouthed at her, brows high, as Martha returned her mobile.

Still grinning, Martha simply pressed her lips together and shrugged. Rose sent her the dirtiest look she could manage before pressing the mobile back to her ear. "Tell me what you just said."

"Blimey," said the Doctor. "So demanding."

"You don't know the half," Rose told him. "Spill it, Time Lord."

"You know, I sort of like it when you get like this. All...fiery."

"Actually," said Rose, conjuring up an air of indifference, "never mind. I know you; you probably just told Martha some pointless trivia or a dumb joke, just to wind me up and get more attention. I'm not falling for it."

"Some 'pointless'- that's rude, you have no idea how many hours I've..." Suddenly the Doctor fell silent, and Rose smirked, waiting for it.

"Oi! Reverse psychology does not work on Time Lords!"

"Sure it does," said Rose sweetly. "Around seventy percent of the time, in my experience. So it was totally worth a shot."

He humphed, but she could tell he was amused. "If you're just going to be mean to me then I don't _want_ to pop in and see you tonight."

Rose laughed, shaking her head. "Good thing you'll have a few days to get over it. Nice try, by the way."

"Eh, like you said- worth a shot."

* * *

Over the next few snail's-paced days, Rose found herself half hoping that his impatience would win out over him keeping his word, and that he might show up early after all. Things just felt sort of...empty, which was borderline ridiculous. She _liked_ her life, darn it, but problem was, it paled in comparison to the rainbow fantasies which increasingly consumed her thoughts. Anticipation began to flow in unchecked, and as much as Rose tried to tamp it down by remembering the formidable obstacles still in their way, her heart was set. Certain.

And just like that, Rose had fallen for him all over again, hard and fast, which was the cherry that topped the whole overwhelming sundae.

Such strength of feeling confused her a little. Her love for the Doctor had been steadfast for ages; simply giving in again shouldn't be this intense, this dizzying, this new. Maybe her years as wife to his counterpart had made her believe that a relationship with this version would be old hat, but she was all-out wrong. This was unexplored territory. And once Rose understood that, she found that she relished their differences. It allowed her to cherish the life she'd had with her part-human Doctor, cherish all of his particular quirks and traits, and set him apart as special. Never would she have to compare him to anyone.

This new Doctor was still shrouded in mystery, and Rose grew more and more eager to puzzle him out. What had his life been like for all the years that she'd missed? What had shaped him, scarred him, made him rejoice? It worried her a little. Would they still be a perfect fit in every way, even though she hadn't been here to influence the outcome of his last regeneration?

Early indicators were quite promising, but Rose needed to _know_. She was ready to plunge in, to experience and explore and discover. All of this being in limbo was incredibly tiresome, their bloody boundaries were tiresome, her fuzzy jumper an annoying, unwanted mediator between their palms. To simply trace his lifelines with a bare fingertip would be bliss, to stroke a thumb over the smooth chill of his knuckles...

Rose shivered a little, and then scoffed at herself. God. If she was this silly over properly holding his _hand_, how would she ever survive once he kissed her?

* * *

"No no no, let's not play with those eggs, all right? They'll smash...here, love, you want to pour something?"

Charlie nodded, eagerly taking hold of the plastic measuring cup while Rose took the opportunity to surreptitiously move the carton of eggs to the opposite countertop. Out of sight, out of mind. Or at least out of reach. Why had she thought baking would be a good activity for a not-quite three-year-old? And why wasn't the Doctor here yet?

Turning back, Rose found Charlie using the cup to scoop dry cake mix from the glass mixing bowl. In one swift move she was back over there, but it was too late- chocolate powder spilt from the tilted cup, drifting over the countertop and floor, a puff of it floating in the air. Thankfully it was less than what it looked like, and with her hand on his, Rose guided him to dump the remaining cupful back into the bowl, salvaging it. "C'mon, buddy," she said, plucking Charlie from the chair he stood on. "Let's go get some water in that cup, okay?"

Together, they added water and then oil to the bowl without any more spills. After adding eggs herself, Rose was pondering whether or not it would be the course of wisdom to allow the little boy to "help" her use the mixer when a very familiar grinding sound caught in her ears, its crescendo coming from the front room of the house.

"He wouldn't..." Setting Charlie down and taking him by the hand, Rose padded over to peer around the corner, and sure enough, a squarish outline of hazy blue was solidifying before her eyes. "What am I saying? Of course he would."

With its usual creak, the door opened and the Doctor popped his head out, hair swooping rakishly over one eye. As their gazes locked he absolutely beamed, eyes shining as if she was the most stunning sight in the universe.

There was nothing else for it but to smile back and go over there, directly into his waiting arms.

"Hello," she said, breathing him in, cheek against his soft lapel, her arms wrapping tight around his waist.

His breath was warm on her scalp as he nuzzled the top of her head, and Rose closed her eyes for a moment, then leaned back and smiled up into his face, some tightly wound spot within her relaxing. Finally he was here, every tall, adorably awkward inch of him, and it felt like it would be the most natural thing in the world to stretch up and kiss him. Felt wrong not to, in fact, so much so that frustration surged up for a split second- was it asking so much, for such a small, sweet thing?

Before her thoughts could dwell on it much farther, Charlie inserted himself between them, his patience with their hug apparently running out.

"Hungry?" the Doctor asked, eyes bright as he let her go and stepped back.

Rose exhaled, tucking her hair behind an ear. "Starving."

"Perfect." The Doctor disappeared back through the still-open door of the TARDIS, reappearing moments later with two large paper bags in his hands. Rose took one sack from him so he could shut the ship's door properly.

"Italian food?" she asked, inhaling deeply as a delicious odor wafted past her nose.

The Doctor nodded, grinning. "Just picked it up from this great little place I know, in Rome. Sorry I'm late. They were busy and it took longer than I expected."

"Mmm," she responded, poking her nose deep into the bag. "Guess I'll forgive you, especially if this tastes half as good as it smells."

"What if it tastes even better?" Eyes twinkling at her, the Doctor lifted the overexcited toddler, who squealed as he got swung around. "What do I get then?"

Rose gave him an arch look, pretending to think it over, and grinned when his eyes glazed over. Turning her back on him, she strolled into the kitchen and put her bag on the countertop.

"What happened in here?" asked the Doctor, taking in the mess of spilt chocolate cake-mix and eggshells and dirty utensils strewn across the bar. He set his own bag beside hers. "I thought you knew I was bringing dinner?"

"Rats. I forgot I didn't finish this." Peering into the bowl, Rose made a face at the mass of egg and oil, solidifying in the middle of the unmixed powder. "Charlie and I were just doing a little baking before you got here. Thought it would be nice to make a cake for Mummy and Daddy's anniversary, didn't we, sweetheart?"

"This is cake?" The Doctor's forehead wrinkled as he gave the bowl's contents a doubtful look. "And which one of you was in charge of it, again?"

"Shut it," said Rose with a laugh, plugging in the mixer. Charlie, who had climbed up to stand on the chair beside her, tried to stick his hand in the bowl, and she slid it away just in time. "Think you could give him some food while I finish this quick?"

"Sure." The Doctor scooped the toddler up. "You like spaghetti, little man?"

"No," Charlie told him, arching his back as he was being placed into his booster chair. "I want cake."

Mixer whirring in her hand, Rose bit back a smile as she watched the Time Lord calmly crouch in front of the wriggling boy, looking him straight in the eye while he buckled him in with sure fingers. "Cake, you say? Okay." He tapped his chin, nodding. "Although..." From over his shoulder, the Doctor looked at Rose, then back to Charlie. "I don't know if that cake is quite ready to eat yet. Do you suppose we should let Rose bake it first?"

Charlie stilled a bit, regarding the Doctor silently.

"And then you'll help put the icing on, yeah?" offered Rose, before she could stop herself.

"Oh, icing," agreed the Doctor. "I almost forgot. And that's the best bit, eh? Will we wait for cake with icing on?"

Wary-eyed, Charlie gave a careful nod, and the Doctor beamed at him. "Shall I fetch you some dinner for while you wait?"

Wise enough to not wait for an answer, he popped to his feet, quickly fetching plates and forks without needing to be told where they were.

"Kids always love you," Rose commented, watching him empty the bags.

He gave her a small smile as he opened a foil container. Steam rolled out, and he dug a spoon through the cheese-encrusted top, scooping a small amount out onto a plastic toddler plate. "Probably because I love kids."

"Yeah, but it's more than that." Rose shut off the mixer and unplugged it. "When Tony used to act up- and blimey, it happened a lot. He was so stubborn, like you wouldn't believe-"

"A stubborn Tyler?" echoed the Doctor, setting the plateful in front of Charlie and then handing him a fork. _"Really?"_

"Ha ha." Rolling her eyes at his grin, she began pouring the chocolatey batter into two round cake pans. "Anyway, Mum would threaten or try an' bribe him or whatever, for hours, and it wouldn't do any good, but then Doctor'd walk in and hardly say a word and that was that, all of a sudden Tony was cooperative as could be. Used to drive Mum spare." Rose laughed softly, remembering. "She'd always claim it was an alien mind trick, and that he better never try it on her."

Quickly popping the pans in the oven, Rose straightened and turned to the Doctor, surprised at the lack of snappy comeback. But he'd gone quiet, his expression odd as he dumped a good dozen breadsticks from their foil lined sack out onto a plate, deftly arranging the golden, steaming things into a neat pile.

Eyeing him, Rose went over there and sat, nipping a breadstick from the side of his pretty pyramid and biting into it. It was pillowy soft and practically melted in her mouth, all garlic and butter, dusted over with parmesan cheese. She moaned appreciatively, closing her eyes. "These are my new favourite thing. Not sure I can share any."

The Doctor sat down beside her, smiling. "Not even one bite?"

Rose considered him, then held the breadstick out with an air of great self-sacrifice. "Well, okay. But only because you were so nice to bring dinner and all."

After blinking at her for a second, he caught on and leaned in, eyes locked with hers as he took a bite. A tiny amount of parmesan clung to his upper lip, and Rose caught herself right before brushing it away with her thumb. Although, doing so with her mouth would be even better- and with that unbidden thought, she inched back a tad. He was so _close_.

"D'you want some bread, Charlie?" she asked, to distract herself. The boy looked at her, shoving another handful of pasta in his mouth. Predictably, his fork had been tossed aside and his face and hands were covered with marinara sauce, but who cared? At least he was quiet and eating.

"You're great with kids too, you know," observed the Doctor, handing her a full plate.

Rose shrugged. "Got a lot of practice with Tony. Not that he wasn't a terror sometimes. But mostly he was fun. So innocent and amazed by everything. I like kids better than I like adults, a lot of the time." She twirled up some fettuccine and put it in her mouth, its sauce creamy and rich on her tongue.

"Then why..." Pausing, the Doctor set the serving spoon down on the table, that odd, thoughtful look on his face again. "Why did the two of you not have your own children?"

His eyes met hers, serious, yet worried that he might be inadvertently prodding at some old wound. Rose reassured him with a smile. "It wasn't as if we were actively for or against it, I suppose. From time to time we talked about it, agreed it would be great if it ever happened, but our lives were so full already. Especially once we had a TARDIS again."

Nodding, the Doctor stuck a fork into his own pasta. "You never felt like you were missing anything?"

Rose shook her head without needing to think about it. "No. I was happy. And...well, if you want full disclosure- we were fairly sure it wasn't possible for us. Don't know if you know this, but his biology was still far more Time Lord than human."

"I'm sorry." He looked away, taking another bite, which told Rose he had at least been suspicious this might be the case.

"I'm not," said Rose, nudging him till he met her eyes. "Not one bit. Him losing a heart and the TARDIS- now that was a sacrifice. But at least he still got to be the Doctor. I mean, what if he'd been so human that he'd lost some of his Time Lord traits, like his time sense? You would've never given us that TARDIS coral. Too dangerous, if you never know when you might be mucking about too close to a fixed point. Entering timelines you ought not." She swallowed, looking away, realising she was much closer to a sore subject than she'd intended on getting, but pressed on anyway. "I had that drilled into my head over and over, from the minute he started teaching me how to pilot the TARDIS. Made me promise I'd never go off somewhere without him."

"But even Time Lords aren't perfect; your TARDIS should have safeguards against that sort of thing. Is that why you don't travel anymore?"

"Yeah, partially. But...I dunno. When I first came back here, to this universe, I was in a really bad place, and all I wanted was a fresh start. I'd...been traveling by myself for a couple of years, which was totally against his wishes. And I shouldn't have. Ended up doing a lot of stuff that I regret."

The Doctor watched her with eyes full of sympathy. "Like going back in your own timeline so you could see him again?"

Rose sat back in her chair, appetite all but disappearing. His air was all warmth and understanding- for now. But how would he take the truth? Re-entering one's own time-stream was one of a time-traveler's biggest no-no's, and Rose had done it not only the one time he knew about, but again and again. Here he'd given her the perfect opening to confess but Rose wavered, wrapping her arms around herself. Did it need to be dealt with now? She had missed him so badly this week and their night had hardly started.

"Rose?"

Arms tightening, Rose stared down at her uneaten meal. "Yes. Only you don't know the whole story."

He slid his chair closer. "Do you think I'm going to be angry? You were grieving. I've been tempted to do the same thing myself, under similar circumstances. Given in, too."

Now she looked at him, wondering about that last bit but unwilling to let herself off the hook. "I wish I'd only given in once."

In consternationhe studied her, and then laid a hand on her thigh. "Blimey, Rose, I'm sorry. It was stupid of me not to realise- of course you wouldn't know what exactly he told me. But, well, I already know all about it."

Stunned, Rose tried to absorb this. "But why would he need..." She trailed off as the possible answer flashed through her mind, and her throat swelled. "Why wouldn't he? It was probably so hard for him, knowing so much about his future but having nobody he could talk to..." Her throat tightened further. God, she'd hurt him so much.

"Hey," soothed the Doctor, "look at me. It wasn't because he needed to pour his heart out to someone. And if he did, do you really think he'd pick me? As it was I practically had to drag information out of him." His eyes took on a faraway look and he scowled a bit. "It wasn't half annoying. But in the end, he ended up, well, giving me a list, coordinates and such for all the times he'd seen you. You see, at the time he believed that the only way you could be time-traveling was with me. In my TARDIS."

Suddenly, certain bits from that long-ago weekend made so much sense. "He believed I was going to be with you? That's why he was so sure he was going to die? I could never get a straight answer out of him about that."

"He couldn't tell you about your future, Rose."

"I know. I just...I hate myself for putting him through that. Yeah, he survived that weekend but nothing was ever truly fixed for him, was it? He never had peace, and it was all my fault."

The Doctor was quiet, studying her with deep-set eyes. "Rose, I'm going to explain something to you now and I need you to listen to me very carefully."

Rose nodded, frowning.

"Your Doctor- his greatest concern was you, and rightly so. And yes, he was very scared when he and I realised that at some point, you'd be making all those trips alone. He'd promised you that such a thing would never happen, but he was helpless because it seemed inevitable. But then, once we stopped being stupid we both saw that it _wasn't_ inevitable. Because I would be waiting for you, if that was what you still wanted."

As she saw where he was going with this, her head began to shake. "He used to do this too, always talking like you're bloody interchangeable or something. There's no way that's okay-"

"We talk that way because we _are_. Now don't get upset, let me explain. Your perspective on this...it's very human, but us Time Lords, we see things differently. Our lives are very...compartmentalised. And your husband, part-human though he was, was all Time Lord up here," he said, tapping his temple. "And for us, it's more like..." He thought for a moment. "Well, imagine the meta-crisis never happened. You stayed with me, and we got married, we had a life together. But then, several years in, an accident happens. I regenerate, and it goes a bit wrong, and I lose my memories of all of it. Now everything's different. I'm different. But then again, even though it's tough, at least I'm still me, and I know you, and my feelings for you are as strong as ever."

"S' more," said Charlie loudly from across the table. Absently, Rose handed him a breadstick, trying to understand what the Doctor was getting at.

"So you're saying...what? That his death was somehow like regeneration, just because I now have you?" She shook her head, unable to accept that. "No, because the meta-crisis did happen. You were two different people."

"And we were also the _same_. I told you that when we all stood on Bad Wolf Bay, Rose. I wasn't lying. I would've...I never could've given you up if he wasn't me." The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I know this is confusing, but I'm just trying to help you get his perspective. He was happy when I left after that weekend, _happy_, because he knew you wouldn't have to end up alone. The dying part didn't scare him; he'd done it several times before. And though he didn't exactly love the idea that you wouldn't always be with _him_, him, he was truly okay."

His fingers stroked patterns on her knee and Rose watched them, too overwhelmed to decide how she felt about all this. The Doctor was trying to comfort her, and deep down Rose knew he was telling the truth. He wanted her to let go of some of her guilt, but it wasn't that simple. The burden she carried was deserved.

"Will you at least think over what I've said?" he asked quietly, when she still didn't speak. "Try to understand it?"

"I'll try," she said, managing to meet his eyes.

He let it go, and as they finished eating they gradually eased back into normal conversation. Then the Doctor insisted he be the one to clean up Charlie, which was a fruitless endeavor that had Rose laughing outright, the toddler besting the Time Lord whose kid-charms totally failed him. They probably should have just stuck the little boy in the tub, but neither of them thought of it- which ended up being a good thing, because if Charlie had been a mess from dinner he was an absolute disaster after he "helped" ice that cake.

"Are you a cake too?" the Doctor teased him, pretending he was going to taste his face, which made Charlie shriek. "You look like one, all that chocolate icing in your hair!"

"It's nearly seven," Rose announced with relief, looking at the stove's digital clock. "Time to get him ready for bed." She went and took the little boy away from the Doctor, facing him outward to keep his less-than-pristine hands off her. "I'm going to take him up for a bath."

In spite of a lingering sugar-high, Charlie ended up going to bed fairly easily, though it took awhile. Carefully shutting his door, Rose headed downstairs, a bit tired and ready to relax and chat with the Doctor. But as she approached the main floor, she heard voices. Her heart sank. Clara had joined him, probably. Maybe he'd gotten bored.

Rose was shocked when she found, not Clara, but Martha and Mickey with the Doctor in the (mostly) cleaned up kitchen. "Why are you two home so early?"

The three of them shared amused, knowing looks, and Rose crossed her arms, suddenly feeling very put out. "Oi."

"We've been promised a little anniversary trip," revealed a smiling Martha, after the Doctor's go ahead. "Just for a few hours. There's this ball...where was it again?"

"Quiet little planet in Messier 63, Sunflower galaxy," said the Doctor, rising up on his heels and looking both proud and delighted.

"Oh." Taken aback, Rose pursed her lips to try and hide her dismay. He was leaving? Already?

"Not just us, silly," said Martha, correctly interpreting her thoughts. "Like it isn't totally an excuse for him to take you dancing."

"What? Tonight?"

"Is that all right?" Unsure, the Doctor's smile wilted slightly.

"Yeah, sure, course." She smiled at him, though still somewhat confused. "'M just...surprised, is all. Like, what about Charlie?"

"All covered," called a voice from the lounge, and Rose turned around to find Clara waving at her from the sofa. "Nanny Clara at your service."

Rose turned narrowed eyes on the Doctor and he put his hands up. "What? She volunteered! It's all planned out, Rose, Clara even has a safe place to take him if need be. That's why I parked the TARDIS in the house." His brow furrowed. "I was expecting you to yell at me about that."

"Thank you," she said, laughing, and went to hug him.

He dipped his head and smiled at her. "Go check your bedroom."

Rose blinked and he gave her a little shove. _"Go."_

With thrill tingling her spine, she took off, around the corner and down to the basement, flipping the light on as she entered her room.

Her bed was in her direct line of sight, and laid out neatly in the center of the duvet was a soft, filmy vision of a dress. A _pink_ dress. Touching her fingers to her mouth, she smiled and then gathered it up, draping it against herself.

It was the work of minutes to get changed. Strapless, the gown skimmed her body perfectly, its soft layers hitting just below her knee, so light it almost floated as she moved. Admiring it in the full-length mirror, Rose thought it resembled something a fairy might wear.

After spending some time touching up her make-up and hair, she headed back upstairs, pulling on the sheer, shimmery gloves that he'd also left for her. They were pretty, but those, of course, also had a practical purpose. All in all, Rose was very impressed. The only thing he'd forgotten about was-

"Shoes?" Seeing Mickey and Clara waiting on the sofa, Rose held out the two pair she'd brought up. "Which ones go best?"

A quiet voice caught her attention. "Blimey." Rose turned to find the Doctor leaning against the wall beside the stairwell, his jaw slightly slack, an awed look on his face. "You look beautiful."

Ducking her head, Rose felt her cheeks heat. "Thanks." Shyly, she smoothed down the dress with her free hand. "This was so sweet of you. Fits perfect and everything." Her eyes darted up, meeting his. "I love it."

A throat cleared, and Rose flushed pinker, realising they'd been staring at each other. She shot Mickey a glare and looked back at the Doctor. "So. Flats or heels? What do you think?"

A sly grin tugged at his mouth. "I think...neither."

Before she could challenge that, footsteps sounded on the open staircase. Rose looked up to find Martha coming down, clad in a similarly filmy dress, only hers was in emerald with a halter-top. Her hair was twisted up elegantly, but she too was barefoot.

Mickey gave a low whistle as he got up, gesturing for his wife to spin around.

"Wow, babe," he said, quickly kissing her. "How many alien blokes will I have to fight off tonight?"

"Well, we'll never find out just standing around in your lounge," said the Doctor, clasping his hands and sounding impatient. He plucked Rose's shoes from her grasp and threw them onto the couch. "Time to go."

"I must say, Doctor," commented Martha, grabbing a coat as he attempted to usher them out the back door, "I'm sort of surprised you came up with all of this. Didn't think dancing was really your thing."

"Now Martha," he replied, catching Rose's gaze and holding it. "Over a millennia old, me. I've been around a bit. I think you can assume that at some point I've danced."


	20. Chapter 20

**Mentions of River in this chapter. Nothing is said that is disrespectful, but please remember that this is 100% a Doctor/Rose story! :)**

* * *

The beat was infectious, and while Rose rested on the bench her toes kept time in the plush grass, her body swaying slightly. There was no way she'd have kept up during this song anyway- even some locals fought to properly execute the swift and intricate dance steps, laughing and cheering each other on. Just watching them energized and tired her all at once.

The Doctor had fetched her a fruity drink and Rose took slow sips of it, trying to make it last. The liquid soothed her dry throat, and the chilly glass felt so good on her hot skin that she held it against her chest, and then pressed it to each flushed cheek.

"Tell me you've found something other than a girly drink!" a deep, cheerful voice called out. Rose turned, smiling when she caught sight of Mickey and Martha approaching from a short distance away, tall cups in their hands. She held her own bubble-gum-coloured beverage up so he could see it better, and laughed at the face he made.

"Oh, you got him to go native after all," Rose exclaimed, as the couple came to stand in front of her. "Good job!" Though he'd put up a fuss earlier, Mickey was now wearing one of the short, sleeveless tunics like all the other men wore, instead of his shirt and tie.

"This is definitely better," Martha agreed with a wicked smirk, as she ran her fingertips down his bare, muscled arm. "Now if only I could get him to agree to the trousers."

"You just like 'em cause they're tight," complained Mickey, though he was obviously enjoying his wife's attention. "'M not a piece of meat."

Martha gave him a slow once over, just to show she disagreed with that last statement, and then stretched up to kiss him. Rose smiled at her friends, pleased to see them so happy with this special night out.

"It's way too hot out here for all those layers," Mickey admitted, wiping his glistening forehead. "Didn't the Doctor ever give in?"

"Took his coat off." Rose's gaze shifted away. "But the heat doesn't bother him, you know. He's never uncomfortable." In truth she hadn't dared tease the Time Lord at all about changing, for fear that he'd actually do it. Not that she minded tunics- oh no, they were brilliant little garments, exposing skin and throats and lovely toned biceps; the very idea of him clad in one had Rose going a bit weak-kneed and stupid. And that was no good; lord knew one of them needed to keep their head tonight and it certainly wasn't going to be the Doctor- his higher faculties had visibly abandoned ship the second he'd seen her in this dress.

"So where is loverboy, anyway? Surprised he's let you out of his sight."

"Off looking for this special cake that he liked, last time he was here." Automatically, Rose scanned the seemingly endless row of tables that stretched off into the distance, all of them food-laden and candle-lit. In the scads of people that milled about the Doctor was nowhere to be seen, but that was fine. She was glad for the chance to cool down.

"You two having fun?" she asked, lifting her hair off her neck with a hand.

"I forgot how amazing it was, being on another planet," said Martha, looking around with a smile. "Not that they're all as beautiful as this. Though I must admit, when the Doctor said 'ball', what I pictured was more glitzy palace and less dark forest."

Rose laughed. "Guess the quaint dresses and lack of shoes should've clued us in."

"Should've." Martha laughed too, sliding her small, pretty toes through the shimmery grass. "Not that I'm complaining, mind. This is probably one of the most romantic places I've ever been. I wonder how the Doctor managed it?"

With a smile and a shrug, Rose tipped her face to the sky. Her friend's surprise was understandable, as the Doctor had long played the obtuse alien card when it came to this sort of thing. Who'd guess that facade hid a sentimental, sappy romantic? And though her husband had liked to blame this trait on Donna, Rose always knew better. And now she had proof.

Tonight's ball was held deep in the copper forests of Pokudum Krim, and Rose thought the spot superior to any palatial edifice. They were in an enormous clearing, dense thickets of trees surrounding them on all sides but one, a body of water that was ghostly with fog. Overhead, in the inky sky, two gold moons shone like bright, polished coins, their light glinting off brassy leaves until the trees resembled gigantic torches afire.

It was a fairy-world, a dream-land, the sort of place where it was hard to keep track of practical concerns. The Doctor was banking on that, she suspected.

"Anyway," said Mickey, going to grab a slice of sweet bread from the table behind them, "fun as this is, we're getting tired. Might be nice to get home soon."

"Seriously?" Rose frowned, swiveling on the bench to look at him. "We've only been here for two hours. It can't be much past ten, there's no way you-"

Mickey snickered as he came back around. "Relax. It was a joke, okay? Though I gotta say, Rose, I saw you and him dancing earlier, an' you two looked quite..." Trailing off with a head tilt and a suggestively raised eyebrow, he shoved a hunk of bread in his mouth.

Her own eyebrows lifted, challenging. "Quite _what_?"

"Oh," he said, still chewing, "let's just say that I'm surprised you aren't more eager to drag him off someplace a bit less public."

"Shut up." She brushed it off with a small smile and eye-roll, though something in his tone bugged her.

"Leave her be, Mick," Martha chimed in. "It hasn't even been that long since they found each other."

"So what?" Though still smiling, there was a hint of edginess in his eyes. "You've only been in love with the guy since you were _nineteen_."

It almost sounded like an accusation, the sort she hadn't heard out of Mickey in years. "You know it's not that simple," Rose stated, again hoping he'd drop it, and let her gaze drift past him to the swirl of dancing couples.

No such luck. "S' never stopped you from up and running off with him before."

Rose went rigid for a moment, then fixed him with a glassy-eyed stare. "What's up with you? I thought you were all for him and me working things out?"

Seeing Mickey flinch a little gratified her. Martha jumped in. "He _is_," she said, more to Mickey than Rose, joining her on the bench. "We both are. Of course. I think...," she added slowly, "it's just hit him that you might actually leave us soon."

"Like, without telling you?" Rose shook her head. "I'm not nineteen anymore, and I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't just run off."

Mickey's stance softened. "You sure?" he asked. "Cause I know you, Rose, and nothing has ever been as important to you as the Doctor. Martha keeps tryin' to tell me that you and him still have all this stuff that you need to work through, but I don't know. I think any minute now you're gonna wake up and realise you can't live without him anymore, and then you'll be gone."

As Rose opened her mouth he put a hand up. "Lemme finish. It's not that I ever expected you'd stay with us forever, Doctor or no. You want your own life. But he...well, you know that till he came searching for you, we hadn't seen the guy for a decade. The Doctor...he has this way of disappearing."

Stretching a leg out, Rose nudged his shin with her toes. "I get it, I know what he's like. But the thing is, he's different when he's with me. And he would never make me choose between him and the people I love."

"Sure hope not."

"Always brought me home to see Mum, didn't he? _And_ to see you."

"Oh yeah, but that was only cause he couldn't stop me."

Laughing, Rose kicked him lightly. "So all of this was cause you're gonna miss me so much?"

"Nah," he replied, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't. But, you know. Charlie might."

"Oh, now he's bringing out the big guns," said Rose, chuckling, though with a pang in her heart at the thought of not seeing the boy on a daily basis. "And really Mick, how could you even think I'd not come back to see Charlie? I'll probably be around so much that you won't-"

Then it struck her. Her continued presence in their lives was not a given.

"What's wrong?" asked Martha, who knew her too well.

Rose took a long swallow of her drink. "It's not what you're thinking. It's...well, I didn't tell you guys this before because I didn't want to worry you, but the Doctor and I figured out something about that rift. Something not good. It...didn't just crack open on its own, my TARDIS made it, when I came here. And there's a chance that the only way to fix things, is that I might..." Exhaling, she forced herself to meet their eyes. "I might have to go back to Pete's World."

The pair stared at her, too stunned to say a word.

"Course," Rose went on quickly, "the Doctor is sure we'll figure out another way, and I hope he's right, but I just...I don't know."

"That's what's still holding you back?" asked Martha, studying her. "Not the other old fears?"

Somberness settled over Rose, and she glanced down at her pink-painted toenails. "Weird as it is, this whole problem with the breach- it's changed things. I mean, it doesn't seem as much like fate trying to push us together, you know? Not now that I'm having to fight to be with him. Ironic, isn't it?" she added. "Something finally helps me believe that him and me being together isn't wrong, and it's the one thing that might keep us apart in the end."

"The Doctor'll fix it," said Martha instantly.

"There's no way he'll let you go," Mickey declared, like that was the end of it and they were all getting worked up over nothing. "No way."

Rose played with an earring. "Yeah. I know."

The music changed again, drums dying away as the stringed instruments began a ballad. Leading it was a single guitar, its melodic strains slow, swinging and rich, but with a taste of bitterness. It sounded like want, like longing, it was the ache she felt deep in her bones. Rose couldn't help but shut her eyes, letting it tell her story.

Just as the first refrain rolled around, a gloved hand planted itself on her bare shoulder, startling her back to reality.

"Hello." The Doctor's voice was low and rumbly, his breath warm on her ear. "Good song."

Recovering herself, Rose peered back at him, and manufactured a disapproving look. "Trying to give me a heart attack?"

The Doctor dropped onto the bench at Rose's left, pulling her into his side. "Just hoping to make your heart race."

They smiled at each other and Mickey groaned. "Oh my god- seriously, Rose, don't tell me you like that crap. I had better lines when I was fifteen." He pulled his wife to her feet. "C'mon, Mar. Let's go get another drink."

"Did you get the cake you wanted?" Rose bent forward, fetching her gloves from under the bench as their friends vanished into the crowd.

"No." His eyes were on her as she slipped a hand into one of the thin, shimmery things. "I, ehm, found something else though."

She finished fussing with the gloves and glanced up to find him staring, a gleam in his eye like he was up to something. It was impossible not to smile at the picture he made- barefoot, clad only in oxford, trousers and braces, his hair tousled from all the activity and curling a bit in the heat. All in all he looked so relaxed and carefree, like any other bloke. Happy. It was a good look on him.

The Doctor fidgeted a bit under her scrutiny. "What?"

Her smile widened. "You're hiding something behind your back."

He didn't deny it. Flashing her an inscrutable little smile, he brought his left hand into view, and held out small, fragrant cluster of blossoms.

Lips parting, Rose felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. Tiny and starry, the deep-blue flowers were grouped in the shape of a crescent moon, secured by their delicate stems to a sort of hair clip. On spotting similar arrangements worn by a few other ladies earlier, Rose had exclaimed over the beautiful little things, mistaking their shimmer and sparkle for that of sapphires.

"See, real flowers," said the Doctor softly, as she brushed a gloved fingertip over a few petals and was shocked at their fragility.

"They look like glass. So beautiful." Her eyes slid from the flowers up to his face. "Thank you."

Swallowing, he motioned to her hair. "May I?"

"Course." Her lashes dropped as he leaned in, pinning the blossoms just behind her right ear. His fingers traced her jawline as he drew slowly back, and Rose pretended the cool smoothness of the thin gloves he wore was actually his skin on hers.

"Perfect." Dark and fathomless, the Doctor's eyes met hers, but before the moment grew too intense he cleared his throat. "Anyway, like I said, this is a good song." Taking her half-finished drink from her hand, he stood, then set it on a table behind them. "Be a shame to completely miss it."

"What if I say no?" Rose allowed him to help her up, but teasingly resisted his pull on her hand in order to lighten things a tad. "Will you be out there by yourself again, flailing around like you've had too much of the special punch?"

"Of course I wouldn't; I'm not that ridiculous." Setting his jaw, he gave her hand a single hard tug and then grinned when she stumbled into him. "Because this is a slow song."

Giggling, Rose allowed him to maneuver them back onto the dance floor- or, the area on which couples were dancing, since there was no floor, per se. Just a thick carpet of grass, velvety soft and warm and maybe the least bit damp. It was springy under her bare toes and heels as they weaved their way to an open area, stopping somewhere in the middle.

They faced each other and Rose slid her arms around his neck. In just his thin shirt his body was warm against hers, and he held her tight, moving them in time to the music. "These fireflies though," she murmured, lifting her head as another small swarm of them drifted past. "Can't get over them. It's like there are thousands of floating fairy-lights."

A sound of disbelief rumbled from his chest. "What, so you like them now?"

"Well, sure, now that I know they won't get in my face or bite me." Tongue to teeth, Rose grinned up at him.

"I told you they wouldn't," he retorted, his dark eyes on her mouth. "They're not at all interested in us, Rose, not with the all the tiny mites around for them to hunt and eat-"

Rose tapped the back of his neck. "_Magic_, Doctor. What did I say about ruining it?"

"Right." He made a face, green eyes twinkling. "I forgot you were pretending this is fairyland."

"Hey, stop implying it _isn't_," Rose told him, tapping him harder. "An' don't you think Clara would've fit right in?" Most natives were tiny and delicately built- very pixie-like, in her opinion, right down to how they were dressed- with large eyes and sweet features.

"Mmm. Probably get herself elected as their queen," the Doctor added, and then made her squeal as he lifted her by the waist and spun her around, a cheeky move that didn't fit the song at all. "But she really didn't mind staying behind tonight, you know."

"Oh, she probably did, at least a little," said Rose, still giggling as he set her down. "But it was very big of her to offer. She's a much better person than me."

The Doctor sobered a bit, eyes scanning the crowd. "I think she's going to take a break from traveling with me," he confessed. "I never suggested it, but, well, she came into the console room the other day and mentioned she was thinking of it. Wants to be a teacher."

"Wow, good for her. I just hope- I mean, you don't think she's feeling pushed out, do you? Because of me?" Fear twisted her stomach as she was struck with an unbidden vision- the Doctor, all alone in that dim, too-grey console room, grieving her loss with no one to offer him comfort. Clara couldn't leave. Not yet anyway, not while things were still so uncertain.

"More likely it's because of me," replied the Doctor, unaware of her inner turmoil. "I've been distracted, and while I won't apologise for the reason why, Clara deserves better and she knows it. But her traveling with me...it's always been more of a hobby. It's not her life. That said, if in future she wants to come with us from time to time, will you mind?"

Taking a long breath, Rose focused on the tiny checked pattern on his shirt. Her hesitation had nothing to do with the Clara question; it was about him already assuming things about their future when in truth, they may not _have_ a future. A fact he seemed happy to disregard entirely.

"S'bit too soon to decide on, yeah?" was all she finally said.

The song's last few notes trickled out and faded, and the Doctor loosened his hold on her, stepping back. His expression was wary and strange. "Speaking of decisions-"

Bells chimed, brassy and clear and repetitive, cutting him off. Almost immediately people began to move, parting like the Red Sea in Exodus. As Rose and the Doctor were swept along, the small smile he wore said he knew exactly what this was all about, but the ringing bells and excited chatter all around made it impossible to ask him.

Finally a wide path of open grass ran down the clearing's center, and as the bells hushed so did the people. The silence that followed held its breath, like something was coming, and Rose went on tiptoes in an attempt to see over heads- quite unsuccessfully, but she kept at it. The Doctor's height, however, gave him a clear view, and as she glanced back over her shoulder she caught him enjoying her determined efforts.

"Just wait," he whispered, bending so his mouth was close to her ear. "You'll be able to see fine."

On cue, drums sounded out a strong, regular rhythm, so like a march that Rose was unsurprised when the parade appeared. Off to the right, peeking between bodies, she could just make out a series of tall, oddly-shaped, flower-bedecked floats approaching, surrounded by musicians and uniformed, straight-backed men. As the first came closer, loud cheering erupted and so did the music, lilting and joyous. Females in light, glittery gowns emerged from the sidelines, circling the floats in synchronous dance.

Intrigued, Rose went back to bouncing on her toes, and then huffed when she heard the Doctor laugh at her.

"What's going on?" she demanded, rounding on him so she could poke his chest with her finger. "What are they celebrating?"

"This is the annual Crowning Ball," he said, surprising her by giving up the answer so quickly. "And now it's time for the ceremony."

"Oh," breathed Rose, delighted. "They're getting a new King?"

"Queen," corrected the Doctor. Nodding, Rose began to turn around again but was prevented, suddenly gathered into his arms.

Rose smiled against his shirt. "What's this about?"

He cuddled her tighter, like she was some small, adorable thing. "Because I can."

Warmth flooded her and she smiled, pleased with him for admitting it, and for a minute or two, she was happy to stay right where she was, inhaling his scent. As the drumming grew louder he let go, turning her with hands on her arms. Rose gasped. "Oh, those aren't floats, they're elephants!"

He chuckled. "Bit large for elephants, wouldn't you say? And furry?"

"And they're pink!" she added excitedly, not caring in the least that he was poking fun at her. "Pink woolly mammoths, that's what they are!" He laughed again but didn't contradict her as the first one passed by in front of them. The fantasy creature's thick hair had flowers weaved in all over, and a lone, lucky young woman sat atop it. Rose rested her weight against the Doctor, and he held her. "She certainly looks like a princess," she commented, as the girl smiled and waved.

"She is. Well, in a way. All of the girls on these creatures are this year's candidates for the crowning. There's no royal line. A new queen is elected, and this is the night they announce the winner. The whole procedure is almost...like a contest, I suppose."

Another mammoth passed, its dark-haired rider pale, her smile stiff. "She looks scared."

"I suppose most are. There's a lot at stake."

Horror filled her at the dark note in his voice and she twisted to look up at him. "Not their lives, right?"

The Doctor blinked, eyebrows drawing together. "No no no, nothing like that. Just, well, their happiness, possibly."

"Why?"

"Because the Queen," he explained softly, "is the only person on the planet who's allowed to choose her own mate. Two parts to the ceremony: first the crowning, and then the wedding."

"Please tell me most of these girls already have someone in mind."

"Probably why they signed up in the first place."

Rose thought about what this meant, liking it less and less. "And the losers? They just..." She gestured, eyes suddenly prickling with empathetic tears. "No one else around here gets to marry for love?"

"Well, if their parents agree to it, they do."

"So arranged marriages, then. That's so unfair."

"There are worse things, in the grand scheme." A cloud of fireflies went swirling by again, just over their heads, and they both looked up. "Arranged marriages are still common on certain parts of Earth in your time, you know. Often it works out very well, provided the parents involved have a smidge of wisdom."

Rose flapped a dismissive hand. "Ha, my mum's plenty wise, but could you imagine her in charge of my love life? I'd've been married off to Mickey before you ever met me. An' then where would you be?"

When he didn't reply, she twisted a bit in his arms and found him looking at her strangely. "Sorry, still stuck on the part where you called your mother 'wise'."

Snorting, Rose settled against him once more. "So. How do they win it, then? The crown?"

She gave his wrist a squeeze; he must not have heard her. "Doctor?"

"My first marriage was arranged." It was tossed out quietly, matter-of-fact. "Love never factored in for Time Lords; political alliances were far more important. Even when it came to a lifelong, binding arrangement that most cultures consider sacred."

Rose picked at the seam at the tip of her thumb. Would it shock him if she dropped the name of that long-ago wife, or brought up the son he hadn't mentioned? Had it not yet occurred to him that she would already know all this stuff?

The Doctor shifted on his feet behind her, more fidgety than he'd been all night. Wait...was he nervous? Of course talking of his past was never easy for him, but when her husband had spoken of this woman it had never seemed to cause him pain. His mention of her had been... a stat, a fact he tossed out. Like the age he'd been when he first ran away.

Then it hit her, the strange little emphasis he'd put on a certain word.

_First. _

His _first_ marriage. Rose stiffened, jealousy surging, sure and hot. He was gathering courage to tell her of his _other_ marriage, his other wife, the one he'd married in her absence.

The one who knew his bloody name.

Those two facts were all she'd had to go on for years, though her imagination was good at filling in the gaps. But back when Rose herself had been married, she'd been able to think of the full Time Lord potentially moving on as a good thing. The Doctor should be happy and not alone.

Now that he was hers again, she could no longer deny that she'd never wanted his happiness to come by means of another woman in his life.

But that was unfair. Their relationship was complicated enough, and nothing had ever hurt it more than lack of open communication. So with a deep breath, Rose faced him, and bravely offered the opening he needed, though to his shirt buttons more than anything. "So how did your last marriage come about?"

* * *

The atmosphere was noisy and jubilant, people jostling around everywhere as the vibrant spectacle of a procession continued on, but right now all the Doctor could hear was Amy's voice, ringing out clearly in his head.

_Moron_.

For a moment, his eyes clenched shut. What in blazes was he doing, talking about this stuff tonight? Ruining the magic again, that's what.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, unable to figure out a way to simply change the subject. "That was thoughtless of me- I shouldn't have brought it up."

Sighing, Rose ran a finger over one of his braces. "No, it's all right."

"I've upset you."

"No," she sighed again, "I mean, I don't exactly want to talk about her. But we need to. And I'm not really upset." Her eyes darted up to his, then went to her feet. "I'm...jealous, is all, though I've no right to be. I was gone, so why shouldn't you have moved on?"

"But I didn't," he said, tipping up her chin when she wouldn't look at him. "I _couldn't_. Although," he swallowed hard, "I'll admit I did try. River was...she was bold and enigmatic and larger than life, and that was safe, because she never, ever, reminded me of you."

Her lips curved into the slightest of smiles, and he dropped his hand from her face. "Also, largely due to her upbringing, River was dangerous. And...I suppose I felt guilty, since that was entirely my fault."

He waved away her skeptical look. "No, it really was. Because of my mistake, she was stolen from the Ponds as an infant. Terrible people raised her; trained her to kill me." The Doctor brushed his hair off his forehead. "But she loved me instead. Figured it was only fair that I should love her back and I _did_, just...not like that. Not like how she wanted."

Rose took his hand, tangling their fingers together. For a few minutes they stood silently, waiting out the riotous applause that erupted as the last girl and creature passed by. Then as one, the crowd began moving again, this time toward a large platform set up on the lake's sandy shoreline.

As they slowly walked, Rose spoke again. "You said that once before, that you didn't...have feelings for her. And I've thought about it a lot, but I just don't get it. Why marry her then? Doesn't seem like you."

His laugh was silent and humourless. "I did it because it was the only bloody way to accomplish what needed doing at the time. I manipulated her, Rose. That in-character enough for you?"

"Tell me about it," was all she said, running her thumb along his.

His eyes swept the scene, and suddenly he felt penned-in and claustrophobic. "Later. Crowning ceremony's about to start, and it'll be quieter when it's over."

Rose swung their linked hands, silent for a few moments, and then looked up at him. "M'not that excited about the ceremony anymore. Can we skip it, and go talk somewhere else?"

He nodded, and instantly they turned to make their way back toward the forest, easing their way through the mobs, against the current. Once it thinned enough for them to walk side by side he began to tell the story, filling Rose in on the strange events that had led to his latest "marriage": namely, a shattered fixed point and time's subsequent hemorrhaging, the divergent, nightmare-ish timeline. And then he told her of the one solution to it all that was simple, yet not.

By the time they reached the forest's outskirts, Rose's mouth was tight. "So until you performed the hand-fasting she refused to let you touch her? Not sure you were the one doing the manipulating, Doctor."

"Her...intentions were good, I think." Pausing, he took in the impressive height and girth of an ancient tree they'd just trod into the shadow of. "Either way, we both knew that the timeline would end as soon as we touched, and the marriage along with it." Patting the tree's knobby trunk, he gestured for Rose to have a seat on one of its massive, outstretched roots.

Gingerly she did so, tucking her skirt underneath her bare legs. "I don't think it's quite so simple," she stated, eyes on him as he settled beside her. "The argument could be made that if you remember it, you did it."

"Right," he said, scratching his chin, remembering how Amy had felt that way. "But even if it had been binding, Rose, she's gone. It's really, properly over. Okay?"

Eyes big and trusting, Rose began to nod, but then paused and shook her head instead, reluctantly as if doing so were against her better judgment. "You haven't...were you two..." She blew out a breath. "I need to know if you bonded with her."

That threw him for a moment and then oh- _the name thing_. "Rose, but I wasn't lying when I said I'd never told her my name."

"Okay, but that, that almost scares me more. What if the day you tell her hasn't come yet? You seriously never considered that?" she said, to his furrowed brow. "Like, what if you and I bond, and then she comes back, and now you're already married so you _can't _tell her so it's a paradox, cause her knowing already saved your life-"

"Hey, shhh, that's not gonna happen. That loop's complete- shh, don't argue with the Time Lord. No, I never told her, and I don't know for sure how she learned it, but that doesn't mean I can't make a pretty fine guess. There's...a few things I keep around, well, a couple of things, with my name written on in Gallifreyan. Never worried about it since the TARDIS won't translate, but River- she's the child of the TARDIS. Reads Gallifreyan and who knows what all else, and she definitely saw an old cot of mine once."

"You think it's that simple, yeah?" There was hope in her eyes.

He laughed a little. "Only fair, I think. Since everything else to do with her was incredibly complicated."

The sounds of celebration continued echoing through the night, and the Doctor looked off toward its source. "Must have a new queen by now," he said softly. "And a wedding will take place shortly, celebrated by everyone, but by no one more than the bride and groom. Why?"

"Because they love each other."

"Yes, and it's the beginning of their life together, the start of their happiness. Now that's a real marriage, Rose." His gaze darted over her face as he scooted closer, bridging the small gap between them. "And so, going by that definition, yours truly is still an old bachelor. Never been married to anyone at all." Roguishly, he adjusted his bow-tie, lips quirking. "Yet."

And oh, that won him a smile- one Rose didn't even try to hide, genuine and soft, and the shining love in her eyes was not a trick of the moonlight. Hearts speeding, the Doctor brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear, unable to look away. Here was his chance, the ideal moment he'd been waiting for all night. Now or never.

"Rose," he began, "lately I...I've been doing a lot of thinking on things, on what our future might hold." A sound of distaste came, unbidden, from low in his throat. "_Might_. Blimey, I hate that word, at least in that particular context. Feels like fate still has a say," he added, and her eyes narrowed slightly, wary of his word choice.

"Maybe it does." Rose bit her lip. "How can we know?"

"Rose Tyler," he stated, forcing humour into his tone. "Always asking the right questions, well, almost always. But that last one? Awful. Absolute pants. Can't win 'em all, I suppose."

She rolled her eyes, playing along. "And a better one would be..."

"Say, something like: why should we care?"

"Doctor-"

"Okay, yes, wait, listen. I can't lose you again, Rose. The very idea..." Head bowing, he gave up the pretense of lightness and dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "It terrifies me. It is driving me mad. I can't relax, I can't sleep, I can't _focus_ on bloody anything and at this rate I'll never, ever sort that breach, because every time I even think about it, all I can see is you disappearing."

Rose's warm hand settled on his knee, and he looked up, blinking rapidly.

"But do you know what I'm _not_ afraid of?" he went on, pointing his finger at her nose. "I am not afraid of the big bad wolf. Never have been, especially not back in the days when she was scrawling her signature around on everything. In that marketplace in Shan Shen where every written word was Bad Wolf, that was the most hope I've ever felt because I knew it meant _you_. That you were coming back."

Smiling, she bit her lip a little, appreciating the sentiment even if she didn't quite agree with it.

"And I can't lose you again," he repeated, sliding his hands down her arms. "But it might happen, with all this waiting around for everything to get out of our way."

"Not sure I follow, Doctor. What are you proposing?"

He brightened, delighted that she'd chosen that word.

"Yes, you've got it, that's exactly right. I'm proposing. Again." Sliding into the tall grass round the base of the tree, he knelt before an astonished Rose, and took her hands. "I know you've wanted to put things between us on hold till the breach is sorted, but I think that's a mistake. Marry me, Rose. Please. Let's make it so parting is not an option."

Longing filled her eyes but her voice was sad. "Tempting as that is, Doctor, not sure I get how bein' married keeps us together if I have to go back. It'll only make the separation worse. Trust me."

"Because if it comes down to that, I'll have no choice but to go with you."

Rose stiffened, staring at him in shock. "You're...what? No. No, I can't let you do that, you're too important. This universe needs you-"

His jaw clenched. "No, this universe _owes_ me. And if it means to take you away again, it can bloody fend for itself."

With a small head shake, Rose took her hands from his, and nervously pulled off her gloves. "This is a really big deal, you know. I don't think you've thought it through."

"Oh, you have no idea, the amount of thinking I've done." Leaning back on knees, he jammed a hand in his trouser pocket. "Once I found out the truth about that breach, it took around five minutes to decide that I'd never let you go back there without me, and I've yet to come up with a single reason why I should." His hand finished rummaging, emerging from his pocket with an oddly-coloured toggle knob.

Rose blinked at it, then recognition lit her eyes. "Hey, you nicked that off my TARDIS. Why-"

"Insurance," he stated simply. "My ticket to Pete's world. For in case you ever go all noble on me and try to disappear."

"I would never do that to you," she told him quietly, like this was a issue settled long ago. Then long minutes passed as she sat with her eyes on her lap, creasing the fabric of her skirt between her fingers and tugging it over her knees.

The Doctor fidgeted too, seated in front of her in the grass, pulling up several of the long, silvery, threadlike stems, his anxious fingers knotting them into an intricate pattern. Though it was practically killing him he forced himself to be patient, allowing her time to think.

A couple inches of narrow little band dangled from his fingers once she finally moved, nudging his knee with her bare foot. Hearts in his throat, his gaze snapped up to find her expression resolute, her eyes wet. It was all too reminiscent of when he'd last been rejected, and a wave of dizzy sickness went over him.

For some reason that stupid length of knotted grass in his hand had caught her eye. And then, as she reached for it, her sudden smile dazzled him, blinded him, like the return of the sun.

"Like this?" she asked an instant later, laying her hand out flat on her knee. _Displaying her hand,_ his mind sluggishly realised. The band he'd made decorated her third finger, gleaming in the faint light.

Jaw going slack, his gaze slowly panned up to meet hers. "Really?"

"Yes."

At the sight of her tears -tears paired with a smile, so they were definitely happy ones- it struck him like a beam over his head. This was real, it was happening, his long-held dream becoming more than foolish hopelessness. Rose was finally his, finally going to be his wife. Throat too clogged to say a word, he scrambled to his feet, needing her in his arms, _now_.

"Careful," she said, laughing as he pressed warm kisses all over her hair. "Gonna make me lose this lovely ring- its ends aren't even attached yet, you know."

"Best fix that," he agreed hoarsely, and sat down, pulling her into his lap- which was very, very reckless of him, since he was already burning to kiss her properly. Managing to dampen the urge with slow, measured breaths, he flipped her hand palm up, painstakingly adjusted the band on her finger, and sealed the ends together with his sonic.

"Sorted," he announced, and they admired his handiwork for a moment before he hurriedly helped to to her feet. "I, ehm. I don't really want to get married here, not that I think you do. But there's an idea I've had-"

"Whoa, down boy," she interrupted, her smile amused. "We can't just take off. For one thing, did you forget Martha and Mickey are here?"

He plunged a hand into his hair. "Yes...bugger."

"And anyway, you realise I need at least a few days, yeah?" she added, and then tried to placate his disappointment by stroking his arm. "I'll need to tie a few things up- blimey, like put in my notice at work. God." She shook her head. "That all right?"

The Doctor nodded, acknowledging the obvious reasonableness of all this, though he was sure centuries had passed by him quicker than these next 'few days' would. "Guess this is the bit I didn't really think through. My brain was mostly devoted to getting you to say 'yes'."

Laughing, Rose gave him a quick hug, then stepped back. "Can I have my phone? Need to ring Mar, see if they're ready to go."

He dug around in his pocket for it, and then Rose made a funny sound. "Almost forgot to tell you- you missed something, before. Something big."

His brows drew together. "I did?"

"Yep," she said, sounding quite pleased with herself. "That knob of mine that you stole? Does you no good. Might as well give it back."

"Is that right?" He handed her the mobile. "Think I'll need an explanation for that one, miss."

Rose crossed her arms, smug. "If you actually tried using it to follow me back to the other universe, it wouldn't solve anything. We'd be in the exact same predicament as we are here. Only you'd make the rift this time. Right?"

Gaping, the Doctor was both proud of her for finding this error and slightly frightened by it. But it was all right; now that he knew for a fact he'd never have to chase after her. "Well," he retorted flippantly, "just have to get clever, is all. I'd work it out; pop through in Antarctica or something where a breach wouldn't matter. Only endanger a polar bear once in a while."

Rose smacked him lightly with her phone, and then her eyes went wide. "Doctor," she breathed, clutching his arm. "Why can't we do that here?"


	21. Chapter 21

**So, my original intent was to reach a certain event in this chapter. But then I discovered other bits needed developing, and when it was all said and done it was over 9,000 words, so I had to end this one early. Sorry! The good news is that ****the next part is now more than half written. **

**Hope you enjoy, and a million thanks to my wonderful beta, YouCleverBoys!**

* * *

Another grumble escaped the Doctor as he curled onto his side, thwarting the grated metal floor's latest attempt to reconfigure his vertebrae. This old layout was really rubbish, but since the young TARDIS had embraced his presence he was trying to keep his uncharitable thoughts to a minimum. Thank heavens his own Clever Girl understood he was far too old to be wedged into such tight places.

"I heard that," declared his _other_ girl, the unsympathetic one. "Keep tellin' ya, I'm perfectly capable of doing that system's check myself. No need for you to be under there all afternoon, 'specially if all you're gonna do is moan about it."

Instead of answering, the Doctor stuck a thumb and forefinger into a crevice just above his face and twisted tight a slightly loose wire. He wasn't moaning, not really. If anything he felt guilty. Rose's patience was running short, and understandably so. Hanging around her TARDIS with only lower half for company was probably not how she'd envisioned spending the day.

The first day of their engagement.

First day having promises between them, his ring on her finger, and what was he up to? Glorified tinkering. _Not_ exactly his sun-lit dream either, no matter what people might say. He'd far rather Rose be in his arms all day- or at the very least in his sight.

And okay, he'd far, _far_ rather (had counted on it too much, probably) update one little word and make this a first day of a different sort- the first day of their marriage. First day of their honeymoon. And as such, a lot of other firsts would have already taken place by now, making way for fourths and fifths and hundredths, and...

_...blimey. _The floor clanged dully as he let his head knock back against it, trying to physically derail his train of thought._ Stop it._

He couldn't stop it.

That was his problem.

Well, partially.

All his frustration, the longing and impatience, they were only symptoms of something much bigger. Case in point: Rose was going to marry him. MARRY him. An incredible, miraculous concept; bigger than even a mind like his could wrap itself around, no matter how much he mentally caps-locked it. And what he craved most was the simple assurance that this was actually _real_. How could it be real, when his declaration of love remained painfully lodged in his throat? When he couldn't properly touch her? When he hadn't yet spent a single one of the thousands of kisses he'd saved up for her, which were burning a hole in his pocket?

And to top it all off, the Doctor felt...unsettled, to put it mildly. More like a crawling itch in his mind, a wrench of his gut, urging him forward, to lock their relationship down before it was too late. Hurry, _hurry_. But what else could he do? All Rose had asked for was a few days to get her affairs in order (no way that two-weeks-notice thing she'd mentioned to Martha was literal)- surely that was plenty hurried enough? All he needed to do in the meantime was summon up some of that steely self-control so innate to all Time Lords-

The Doctor snorted. Self-control, ha. At this point, one wrong (right) look from Rose and his mouth would be on hers, so long-overdue and perfect that it would inevitably lead to other things...things like his fingers on her temples and his name in her ear.

And _that- _that just wouldn't do. Because when one has been madly in love with a girl for centuries, one simply does _not_ marry her on the TARDIS jump-seat. Or in the woods, nice a day as it was. And definitely not in Mickey Smith's foyer (aka the scene of their latest close call), where, as the other couple left to run errands, the latch's click was like a dash of fuel on a fire that had burned low and quiet between them all morning. The Doctor had scurried just in time.

"Have you been listening to me at all, Doctor?" Rose called out, this time at a volume he couldn't ignore. "I said I can do-"

"Right, sorry," he replied, wincing. "I...I know you're capable. And I _do_ want you to take a good look at all of this too, but..." He made another face she couldn't see. "I just need to be sure, okay? I need to see for myself that all systems are running perfectly before you fly this TARDIS back through the rift."

"Well, 's not like I'm going anywhere today." Rose sounded slightly placated. "You're allowed to take a break if you're so miserable under there. Or better yet, why don't we go for a walk or something before it gets dark? You've been at that since lunch. It would be nice to see your face for awhile before you have to leave again tonight."

Humming, the Doctor stared up at the metal coils above him. For the irrational, lovesick part of him (the _ridiculous_ part of him that missed her, even though she was in the same room) Rose's offer was incredibly tempting. And how much longer could he hide under here, really?

"Just...give me a bit longer," he said vaguely, hand patting up and down his chest in search of the sonic screwdriver. "I want to check the power feeds yet...maybe you could ring Clara to meet us up at the house? She's probably bored by now."

Actually, he hadn't seen Clara since the night before, and now absently wondered if there was a reason why. She'd noticed Rose's ring even quicker than Martha had (_did_ women have special ring radar or something?) and reacted with similar surprise, although far less joyful exuberance. But she'd seemed fine.

Also where had his sonic got off to; had the bloody thing grown legs? Trouser pocket? ...nope, and he wasn't wearing his coat. With a huff, he edged onto his left side, checking the floor for it.

"Told you to take a break," said Rose, amused, and the Doctor's head jerked up so fast it nearly collided with the column. Her face was scant inches from his.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, more sharply than intended. "What are you _doing_?"

"You said power feeds," she replied, unsurely. "But there's this funny energy converter we added that I thought I should point out..." Rose trailed off at his frozen stare, and hurt wilted her smile. "I know what I'm talking about," she went on, growing defensive. "So if this is some chauvinistic bloke thing you've acquired from being on your own too long you really need to get over it."

Body rigid, he rolled flat on his back, blankly staring upward and practically twitching with the urge to reach for her. "Oh, it's definitely from being on my own too long, and there's a fairly good chance it's a bloke thing," he said wryly, the fine thread of his composure pulled taut. "But it has nothing to do with me doubting your mechanical capabilities."

"Okay, then why-"

At her warm touch on his arm the thread snapped. "I'm going to kiss you," he informed her bluntly, turning smouldering eyes on her.

It didn't scare her off- Rose's eyes were as dangerously dark as his own. "So?" she said, a hint of defiance in her smirk. "Bout bloody time, yeah?"

His eyes squeezed shut, a low growl in his throat. "Rose..."

"It's not enough to...you know. So long as we're careful and stop-"

"I won't be careful and I won't stop." His voice was rough as he grappled for a glimmer of reason. "And you deserve _better_."

She gnawed her bottom lip. "But-"

"_Rose_. Please." Turning his face away, he closed his eyes again and kept them that way, until finally she slid out.

"I'm sorry," she said a few long beats later, after he'd heard her pad over to a jump-seat. "You're right, I get it. But I think subconsciously, I sort of want it to happen. It's just so hard to let you leave again, and have to go to work tomorrow and give notice and deal with all the crap that's gonna come with it." She sighed mightily. "I just want to run away and start our life."

His answering sigh rivaled hers. "Probably most engaged couples feel that way."

"Yeah," she agreed without enthusiasm. "But _they _at least get to kiss."

Chuckling, the Doctor began to extricate himself from the tight quarters, inching out on his back. His elbow found the sonic and sent it skittering over the floor. "I could take you back to the Victorian times, if it's empathy you're after. Unmarried couples didn't touch much then either." The ceiling came into view and he sat up, stretching his limbs in relief.

"They also didn't _bathe," _Rose retorted, with a sardonic laugh. "Bet that was a pretty good deterrent."

He got to his feet and looked over at her, a considering eyebrow upraised.

"Don't even think about it," she told him, nose curling. "You don't have time for that tactic anyway, unless your next trip with Clara is gonna be a few weeks long. And I doubt she'd tolerate _that_."

"It will be a few days long, I'm afraid," he said, propping himself against the railing. "Promised her some Anti-grav Olympics ages ago, and it's time to pay up. One last hurrah."

"Last hurrah?" Rose frowned. "Like, she's going home afterward? I thought that wasn't safe."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Head tilting, she tossed him an exasperated look. "You seriously can't remember the reason why you've kept that poor girl onboard for weeks?"

The Doctor felt a bit lost. "Right...I suppose that little gang could have members we don't know about, but ever since Clara stopped in at Tower of London and ID'd her abductors -including the ringleader- she insists she's perfectly safe."

Now it was Rose's turn to look confused. "Wait- they've been caught? When did that happen?"

"Ehm, day before yesterday. Could've sworn I told you...I did mention Clara was going back to school, yes?"

"Yes, but that's _all_ you mentioned," she replied, a bit snappishly. Then, pressing a finger between her brows, she took a breath. "Sorry. It's not like you were trying to hide it, don't know why I'm acting so annoyed. It's great news." Rose gave him a crooked smile. "Sort of weird, though, how that would happen right when we- anyway. Um, is that part of why you proposed again so soon?"

It absolutely was why. Not that the idea hadn't been on his mind constantly, but that welcome call from Kate Stewart was what had cinched the timing. Near unbelievable, how perfectly the stars had aligned...oh. Rose was not a fan of fate. That would explain the stiffness in her smile.

"I won't mind us having the TARDIS to ourselves," he answered carefully, "if that's what you mean. And I asked you again last night because I'm a very impatient man. I just can't wait to marry you."

Rose beamed, hand over her mouth, and he knew it was the right thing to say. "Me too," she said shyly. "Um, and Mar's really excited for us."

"Oh, so is _that_ why she was screeching when she noticed your ring last night?" commented the Doctor, striding back to the console. Might as well inspect the information systems panel while they chatted, it was simple enough.

"Funny. Yeah, she had a bunch of wedding dress pictures pulled up on her laptop this morning. I didn't have the heart to tell her I probably won't need one."

Did he hear disappointment in her voice? He looked up, sonic in hand. "Do...do you want that? The whole earth wedding thing?"

Rose laughed softly. "Doctor. Aside from Mickey and Martha, who would I even invite? Cause I'm not gonna pretend to marry John Smith. I didn't even call _him_ that at my other wedding, and it was his legal name. I'll explain to Martha. She'll understand." Rose paused, nibbling her thumbnail with sudden uncertainty. "Or...well, what about you? You've got Clara, plus you know lots more people than I do. Anyone you want to be there?"

Rolling the sonic screwdriver between his palms, he pretended to think. "For the first day of our life together, if it were up to me, I'd like to 'begin as I mean to go on, and go on as I began'."

Rose's dark eyes were soft, intent on his face. Like she meant to decipher him, to zero in on his meaning before he finished dancing around it, yet with no hint of impatience. His girl, the one person who embraced his eccentricities instead of just tolerating them, and all at once his love for her overwhelmed him. "Just you and me, Rose," he said fervently, leaning forward on the console. "You're the only person I want, _need_, on my side on that day. Because you're the only one I'll truly need, ever again."

"Forever," concluded Rose, her eyes bright with hope.

* * *

"Hey, Prentice!" came a voice from behind. "Is it true?"

Hackles rising, Rose slowly turned, resting her weight against one of the glass cafeteria doors to hold it open. "Not sure what you mean, Kyle," she said, her expression neutral as the burly little man came up to her.

"Well, the word around today is that you're moving back to London," he said, eyes boring into hers with their usual over-bearing intensity. "To marry that scrawny geek I met out at Smith's."

"Yep," she said succinctly, deeming anything more a waste of breath. Hiking the strap of her pack over her shoulder, Rose straightened and released the door, hiding a grin when it nearly hit him in the face. How some people had such strong opinions on other's personal choices was beyond her. Although, rude was Kyle's default setting.

Matt's comments, however...those had been far harder to swallow. With a little lift of her chin, Rose headed into the bustling lunchroom, forcing thoughts of the prior encounter from her mind. For the most part, she was glad she'd followed Martha's advice and simply told her colleagues the truth (mostly) about why she was leaving. The attention was a bit overwhelming, but so far most had been nothing but happy for her.

"Prentice!" she heard again, Kyle appearing at her elbow. Rose counted five, and then paused, turning to him.

"Yes?" She made no effort to hide her impatience.

"So you're really quitting?"

"Already said I was."

"Well," he replied, crossing his arms. "Congratulations."

It took her a few blinking seconds to process this. Had he just said something...nice? Rose smiled with effort. "Um, thanks." She gestured with her thumb. "Anyway, I, ah, I was just gonna grab a sandwich. Got a mission this afternoon."

"I just wasn't sure if it was true," he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. His small, sharp eyes fell to her left hand. "You aren't wearing a ring or anything."

"We haven't had a chance to get one yet, is all." True enough. Her sweet band of woven grass had been left reluctantly behind on her dresser this morning, its fragile threads already beginning to fray a tiny bit from being worn all day yesterday. At some point she'd definitely need something sturdier. "But..." She pointed to the food counter again.

Kyle looked over there and made a face. "Ugh, no. You actually eat here? I can't even stand the smell of this place. C'mon," he said, grabbing her wrist. "Let me at least buy you a decent lunch."

"What?" Rose pulled away. "Why?"

"To celebrate," he replied, as if it were obvious and not completely, utterly, Twilight-zone weird.

"I...can't today. Our team just got a mission, Ligot infestation in an old warehouse in Brooklyn. All I have is ten minutes." His shoulders slumped in sincere disappointment, which only threw her more, but somehow Rose pasted on a bright smile. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, though."

Something flashed in his eyes and then all disappointment vanished. "I'm free tonight too. Meet me by the main doors at quarter to six. You should be back by then."

He was gone before she could even begin to respond to that.

Weird as the Kyle-encounter was, it couldn't distract her from the Matt-problem. En route to Brooklyn, with him driving and her in the back, Rose ate her lunch and ignored him, and then the warehouse was so large that all five of them needed to split up. This suited Rose just fine. Quietly she wandered the grotty old corridors, setting out dishes of tranquilizer-laden minced fish and stewing over things, while waiting for the small, cat-like but reptilian Ligots to consume the bait. On the way back, Jeep loaded with a cage-full of the sleeping creatures, Rose chatted brightly with Monica, who was dying for more details on "John" and how he'd proposed. Only once did she catch Matt's eyes on her in the rearview mirror. She steadfastly refused to look up again after that.

When she finally exited the glassy building into the breezy, darkening October evening, Rose breathed a sigh of relief, buttoning her coat to her chin. _Only a few more days to get through,_ she thought, heading for the train station, and was sad to find herself so eager to escape a job she'd loved.

It couldn't be helped. She didn't belong here, not anymore, if she ever did. Her place was amongst the stars with the man she loved, and no use feeling guilty about it.

Except...Rose had had plenty of time to think today, time to calm down, and now her empathy came back online. Of course Matt was upset. They were not only teammates, but close friends. Over the many hours they'd spent working together, they had grown to trust each other. Rose had even confided in him about her grief. Matt had been there for her, nearly every day, and what was she doing? Running off to marry some shadowy ex-boyfriend, one who'd turned up only weeks ago after years of absence from her life. With very little explanation.

Rose paused briefly at the side of the pavement, near a building in the shadows of its overhead scaffolding. Matt deserved the truth. Yes. And as soon as she got home, she was going to ring up the Doctor to discuss it. All at once she felt much better, and her gaze scanned quickly right and left before she made to re-join the flow of pedestrians heading into the station. And there, amongst them, a short, hunched figure paced on by, weaving through like he was on a mission. Kyle.

_Kyle_. Who'd insisted on them having dinner tonight, she remembered with a grimace. As if she'd even agreed. What, was he following her, trying to track her down because she hadn't been waiting for him at the place he'd decreed?

It was too much weirdness and it spooked her a bit, silly as it was. And Rose turned on her heel, heading for the Starbucks back around the corner. Wouldn't hurt to hang out for awhile and take a later train. A coffee sounded heavenly, anyway.

Ten minutes later she was beaming in delight at her cup (which bore an impressive floral representation of her name in magic marker) and at the artistic young bloke behind the counter, when a tall, thin figure came up beside her.

"Hi." Matt offered her a small, sheepish smile.

"Oh," said Rose, on an inhale of utter surprise. "I mean, hi." Blushing, she held up her cup to show him the rose drawn on it without thinking it through. "Isn't this nice?"

And instantly winced. _So smooth, Tyler._

Matt admired it, laughing a little. "Wow."

Clutching the coffee to her chest, Rose cleared her throat. "So...are you also in need of a caffeine fix?"

"Nah," he said, shifting on his feet. "I collect paper cups with small rugs drawn on them."

She snorted out a laugh, shaking her head.

"Actually...I saw you come in here," he explained, sheepishness returning. "Sorry."

"Everybody's followin' me tonight," she mumbled. But she was pleased. Matt must want to smooth things over as badly as she did.

"What?"

"Never mind. You want to sit?"

At his nod, they went and found a small table in the back. Once opposite each other, Rose took great interest in her cup of coffee, sips slow and careful. She hadn't expected they might talk so soon. What should she do? Did she dare out the Doctor's identity without asking him first?

Matt too seemed uneasy, picking bits from a napkin he'd yanked from the dispenser.

At last Rose broke the silence, determined to start somewhere, "What happened earlier, your saying I'm crazy...it really hurt me. But, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I get it. Why wouldn't you think this is a total rebound? But thing is, it's not. You just don't understand the situation, and that's my fault. I owe you an explanation."

"Rose." Matt met her eyes frankly. "You don't owe me anything. I've acted like a jerk ever since you started dating the guy, and I have no right. You're smart, which is one of the things that...well, it's one of many, many things that attracted me to you. I'm jealous," he admitted, boldly. "I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm not, but I am, I can't help it. I'm in l-"

"Please," she cut him off, eyes widening. "Matt, please don't say it."

He stared at her, looking nearly as shocked as she was. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I don't know what my problem is, it's like I have no filter at all anymore."

Swallowing, she pried at the coffee lid with her thumbnail. "It's all right."

There was a long silence, and then Matt emptied his lungs. "Okay. What I meant to say, before I went into idiot-mode, is that you're my friend. And while I won't apologize for wanting to protect you, I was wrong to say those things." He gripped the corners of the small, square table. "And so, I was wondering if you'd allow me a do-over."

"A do-over?"

Matt popped to his feet. "Wait a minute," he said, eyes beginning to twinkle as he backed up. "Gotta do this right." He turned and Rose watched him loop the room, and then, as he approached her again, his expression was that of his usual cheerful confidence. "Prentice!" he greeted her, dropping back into his chair. "How was your weekend?"

Rose caught on. "It was good," she replied, careful to repeat her words from this morning. "Really good. Eventful. I, um. Actually I got engaged."

His eyes got big, jaw dropping in comic shock and awe, and Rose couldn't help but laugh. "No way...congratulations!" he exclaimed, drawing glances from all around, and sprang up again, arms opening wide. Rose willingly stood to hug him. "I'm happy for you," he said in her ear, quiet and very sincere. "Though I hate to see you go."

"I'll miss you too," she said, stepping back.

"So," he went on, "can I ask for one small thing? Please let me give you a going-away party or something. Just an evening at a restaurant, or maybe a nice pub, for those of us you're closest to."

"That's sweet, Matt, but you really don't need to do that."

He pulled a face. "Um, I kind of already did. I asked Monica and Jim and Anita and a few others, and we've tentatively planned it for this Friday after work. What do you think?"

Rose smiled at him, denting her chin with a fingertip. "Mickey and Martha too?"

"Of course. So that's a yes?"

Pretending to waver, she sucked in a long breath. "Yes...but can I make another request?"

"Sure."

"Please don't invite Kyle."

* * *

Another motorbike screamed past just overhead, upside down on the track and yes, _definitely_ too close for comfort, and an embarrassing little shriek fell out before Clara could stop it. Heart pounding, she watched the bike race off, a wild, rushing breeze whipping up her hopelessly snarled hair.

"Blimey, Clara. Are you really going to scream every time?"

Clara turned a glare on the amused alien prat in the seat beside her. Of course he only grinned back, but the warm fondness in his eyes quickly dissipated her irritation.

"Might do," she replied with resignation, settling back in the reclining seat. "Unless we, I don't know, went to sit further down there?" Clara motioned toward to the many tiered rows of seats below them, all at a lovely, much safer distance from the upside-down racetrack.

Looking down, the Doctor made a displeased sound. "Take a girl to the Anti-grav Olympics, best seats in the house, and what does she do? Complains. Clara Oswald, do you have any idea how much money people pay to sit here?"

Teeth clenched, Clara braced herself as the next bike approached from behind them, and was proud when she stayed quiet as it passed. "_You_ didn't pay anything," she stated, once the wind died down again. "But hey, I never said I didn't like this. It's amazing, really. Just..." Another competitor zoomed by and Clara squeaked. "Just a bit startling, is all."

"Oh yes." The Doctor rubbed his palms together, like this was the best compliment he could've hoped for. "And if you like startling, just wait until tomorrow. Anti-grav diving competition. Pool's overhead, see, and the trick is that the athletes have to..."

"We'll still be here tomorrow?" she cut in. "Really?"

A little crease appeared between the Doctor's brows, as if the question offended him. "There are weeks worth of games, you know. I thought we'd do a few days, even at that you're hardly getting a sample of it all. That a problem or something?"

"No," she replied slowly, "I'm just surprised, is all. So Rose is still holding you to the whole 'no visits during the week' thing?"

The Doctor sat back, fingering his bow-tie. "Actually no, she isn't. But you and I, we've been talking about going on this trip for ages, haven't we?" He snuck a peek at her from the corner of his eye.

Clara gave him a small smile. "Yeah, but that was before, Doctor, so I wasn't planning to hold you to it. That's life. Doesn't always go how you expect it might."

After studying her he grew thoughtful, rubbing at his chin. "Right," he said, nodding. Then he shook his head. "Clara, I'm so sorry-"

"Nope," she said immediately. "Don't. Don't do that. What could you possibly apologise for, Doctor? You're so sorry that the love of your life came back and it disrupted all our plans?"

"No, but I am sorry it's been hard on you. I...I could've handled it better, probably."

As Clara slowly bobbed her head, the announcer's voice reverberated through the stadium, proclaiming the winner, and vid snippets along with flattering close-ups of the woman's face began to flash across the enormous screens. The Doctor and Clara joined in with the crowd's roaring as long as it lasted, and then as it all died down they got to their feet.

Neither spoke as they exited the row, taking the escalator down to the moving sidewalk. It was jam-packed, Clara pressed tight to the Doctor's side, his coat rough against her arm as they rode through endless stadium corridors. Finally, she laid her hand over his on the handrail. "It wouldn't have helped," she said, and gave his fingers a quick, hard squeeze. "If you'd handled it better. You could have handled this whole situation perfectly and...I think I'd still feel exactly as I do right now."

"Which is?"

"You're my best friend. As well as the best thing that's ever happened to me. But now someone else, some other girl, has come into your life and she's far more important to you than I could ever be." Her gaze fell to their joined hands. "So how do you think I feel?"

"Ah-"

"Rhetorical question," she said quietly, with another press to his hand. "Not finished. So I'm sad, of course I am, because I loved how things were between us when it was just you and I, and that's over for good. And I'm sad because when I look at you, I see..." Clara felt him watching her, waiting. Her gaze panned upward, over his waistcoat and bow-tie, and then she dared to peer deeply into his eyes. Yes, in their greenish, ageless depths, even amidst some confusion and worry, it was still there. That..._softness_. It was the only word Clara could find to name it, the new but profound change in him which was more abstract than tangible.

"I see _you_," she concluded, with a little nose wrinkle. "And no, that's not the part I'm sad about. But it's like..." She fiddled with her rings. "There was this look you'd get on your face at times, usually during the bit of an adventure when everything's hopeless; it was this light, like you'd finally come alive. Like you'd shed all of your burdens, and your past, and everything else that makes you sad and...and I'd think to myself, 'oh, there he is. That's him, that's the Doctor, the _real_ Doctor'. And then I'd hope that maybe, given enough time..."

Clara swallowed, lacking both words and courage to continue. The Doctor swung toward her, eyebrows raised, so focused on her that if the moving sidewalk came to an abrupt, untimely end he'd never see it coming. Proof that he still needed her to look out for him, and it was comforting. "I feel so stupid."

"I would never think that."

Her lids dropped. "I hoped maybe, once you trusted me, that I...I could help you be like that all the time. I wanted to help make you better. And..." Clara shrugged. "Well, now you _are_. You're _happy_, and...and please don't misunderstand, it's not that I don't love seeing you like this, because I do." Smoothing her hair nervously, Clara pony-tailed it with her hand, then let it drop. "But at the same time, it's hard. Because in the end, it's nothing to do with me. It's all because of _her_."

At that very moment the hot, late afternoon sunshine hit them as the ride slowed and ended, depositing them just outside the main stadium doors. The fresh air was welcome, and Clara took in lungfuls as the Doctor grasped her hand, guiding her to a bench in the shadow of the building.

"Clara," he said gently, taking her hand in both of his as she sat alongside him. "I know I'm not good at this, but surely you must realise that you're very important to me? Rose being back doesn't change that at all. It doesn't mean you aren't special."

"I know," she said, her voice small, eyes on the laughing, carefree myriads, as they traipsed over concrete and lush grass.

"I'm not sure you do. Listen. Once, I quit helping people because it was too painful. I was...alone, and meant to stay that way forever, but then something happened." His hands slid up her forearms, clutching hard to get her full attention. "I met _you_. You, so clever and adventurous and full of life, that you made me feel that way again too." Smiling at her, he bopped her nose with his fingertip. "Yes, things in my life have changed, but that doesn't mean I can give you up."

Sincerity gleamed bright in his eyes and Clara sniffed, a lump in her throat. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

The Doctor chuckled a little as he hugged back warmly, and then he held her out with his hands on her shoulders. "So what do you say, tour of the city? Take my anti-grav scooter for a little spin?"

"Sure. But Doctor...I only want to stay another day or two. I haven't seen my dad in ages, plus I have my job to get back to, and a new one to pursue. It's time."

His smile fell slightly, though the relief in his eyes told her he agreed. After all, even if he hadn't said it, this was a goodbye trip. Not forever of course, but it wouldn't be the same. It would never be just the two of them again.

"Well," he said, bounding up with sudden energy, "it's not time yet! Today, we have places to go!"

Clara grinned, accepting his outstretched hand.

"Oh, by the way," he said as they walked, "of course you can always call, anytime you get tired of the tedium of grading maths papers."

"Gonna teach English."

A grin lit his face, far too pleased for Clara's liking. "Ooh, classic literature, brilliant! Whenever you're ready to start the class on a new novel, we can all pop back in time and meet the author! Firsthand experience is the way to go, no need for stuffy old textbooks- stuffy, and I might add, often inaccurate textbooks. Why, when I met Agatha Christie-"

"Nope, not teaching classic lit," she declared, just to wind him up. "It's hard enough getting kids to read, so why not pick books that are fun and current?" Clara nudged him with her elbow. "But," she added generously, "you can still take me to meet those authors. One of them, at least."

"Like who?" His question was dark and highly suspicious, and Clara barely bit back a laugh. He knew all about her guilty pleasure.

Her lips barely formed the first consonant when he cut her off. "No, no no no. If you say the name of that, that _woman_, I will personally travel back in time and make sure she never writes a single word about sparkly vampires." The Doctor spit out the last two words, disgusted. "Clara Oswald. You can't just go around corrupting innocent young minds."

Clara batted her lashes. "Guess I learned from the best," she said with a shrug, and laughed evilly at his offended scowl.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you's and hugs to my fabulous beta, YouCleverBoys! And full credit to her for a certain bit of the Doctor's dialogue that I was so happy to finally get to use. :)**

**Extra long chapter this time. And sorry for the extra long wait.**

* * *

"Why do people even have cable anymore?" griped Rose, muting the TV and looking up at Martha and Mickey as they descended the staircase, having just put Charlie to bed. "Seems like there's never anything good on anyway."

"It's the only way I can get the games." Mickey came over and collapsed onto the opposite sofa. "Try the Food Network. That's usually decent."

"Yeah, but then I'll be hungry. Was thinking of putting a movie on. Mar, you still haven't seen..." Rose trailed off, disappointment filling her as she noticed Martha was clad in green scrubs. "Oh. You're working tonight?"

Martha perched on the sofa's arm beside Mickey, an amused smile on her face. "I always work overnight on Wednesdays."

"Right," replied Rose, nose wrinkling sheepishly. "Cause I didn't totally forget what day it was."

"Bit tired?" Martha's grin turned teasing. "Or, is it more that the week's passing by too slowly?"

Rose chuckled. "You know it. And I haven't been sleeping so great. My mind won't shut off."

"Keep tellin' ya, you don't have to make all these life changes so quick," Mickey commented, stretching out on the couch, toes flexing in his socks. "I know the Doctor's never been one to wait around much for anything, but Rose, you really gotta say something to him if you need more time."

"That's not..." Rose sighed, and tugged a knit blanket over from the other end of the sofa. "It isn't the Doctor's fault. If anything's stressing me out, it's been people at work."

"Kyle avoidance tactics not working so well?" asked Martha, and then giggled at Rose's exaggerated grimace.

"He's an idiot," said Mickey, lying back and staring up at his mobile. "Doesn't even know how to suck up properly. He wants your spot on Barclay's team, and he thinks you have influence over Matt. Not sure where he picked up that idea," he added, and in profile Rose could see his smirk. Her fingers gripped the throw pillow at her side, itching to chuck it at him, but refrained. It would only egg him on.

"Speaking of Matt," Mickey went on, swiping away at the screen of his device, "we're gonna have him and a bunch of others over for another bonfire this weekend, so will you please warn the Doctor to be careful of where he parks?"

"I'll mention it, though I doubt we'll be here."

"That right? Where are you off to?"

"Oh," said Rose casually, "a parallel universe, for starters. If I can finally get the Doctor to commit to it."

At last she managed to be more interesting than the wonders within a 5.5 inch screen. Hand dropping, Mickey shifted to look at her. "What the heck does that mean?"

She shook her head, eyes rolling playfully. "I just mean the breach. I'm hoping we can get it closed up this weekend- one less thing to keep me awake."

He did not look much less confused. "I thought that was already more or less resolved- weren't you two were just going to relocate it?"

"Well yeah, but I still have to go through to Pete's World's. You know, fly through to close up the rift, then when I return it'll be in a different spot. I thought the Doctor explained things?"

Mickey sat up, planting his feet on the floor. "Somehow he didn't mention that bit," he said, sounding suspicious, as if he'd been deliberately left out of the loop. "So what if you get stuck there again?"

"Relax," said Rose. "The Doctor has it all worked out; got my TARDIS all tuned up for the trip an' everything, just to be sure."

Somehow this increased his suspicion. "So everything's primed and ready to go to deal with a problem he's been fussing over for weeks, and now he won't commit to the followthrough? Doesn't sound like he's very 'sure' about anything."

"Mick, please. I didn't bring it up to start a debate." True words, those. If she'd known Mickey was still ignorant of the upcoming void-jump she would've kept her mouth shut. Though in hindsight, the fact that he hadn't gone all big brother on her before now should've been a dead giveaway.

"I'm not trying to debate, but this needs discussing, yeah? You of all people should know that dimension hopping can be incredibly risky."

She huffed. "There's risk in everything. And this is different than it was with the Cannon, Mick. We have safeguards in place. And yes, the Doctor would be more than happy to put it off, but that's because...well, because of the current situation, more than anything. We're on the verge of finally being together and he's jumpy; thinks everything is trying to take me from him. Mark my words, once we're actually married it'll be a good year before I'll get him to take me anywhere but Earth and boring leisure planets."

Martha smiled sympathetically, but Mickey's gaze was shrewd. "Does the Doctor want to be the one to do it?" he asked, eyes boring into her. "The void cross?"

Lips pursing, Rose stared into the flickering telly and longed to tell him to mind his own business. Wouldn't help her case, though.

But apparently he was able to interpret silence as easily as dismissals. "Oh yeah, totally called it," he declared, leaning back and crossing his arms. "But you won't let him."

"I caused that rift, so it's my responsibility," Rose fired back, the words well-practiced and pointed.

"Ah ha," he hooted, with false humor. "Your 'responsibility'. How many times have I heard that line? And usually right before you go throwing yourself headlong into dangerous situations that others could handle just as well. You've done more than anybody's fair share of void-jumps, Rose, why not let him have his way on this one? Let him be the one to whip up a way back home if it all goes pear-shaped. Leave your pride out of it for once."

Nostrils flaring, Rose narrowed her eyes on him. "Wow. Just, I'm not sure which part of that offends me more. Your implying that I'm totally incapable, or so selfish that I-"

A familiar, amused voice floated into the room. "Blimey, am I interrupting something? Shall I stop back later?"

With a little gasp, Rose twisted around on the sofa, and her heart gave a mad, joyful bound at the sight that greeted her- the Doctor, leaned up against the wall near the kitchen, his eyes twinkling at her from under a swoop of dark hair. Springing up, she flew into his arms, little quarrel with Mickey all but forgotten. "You didn't tell me you were coming tonight," she said, words muffled against his chest. "Got tired of the Olympics already?"

"Clara wanted to visit her dad." Rose tilted her face up to his, questioning, and he shrugged. "I'll fill you in later. Hello, Smiths," he said, directing a smile at their friends. Rose dragged him over to the sofa.

"Hi Doctor," said Martha, looking slightly relieved. "Good timing. You can keep an eye on these two when I-

"Good timing is right, Boss," Mickey interrupted, his face serious and determined. "Your girlfriend and I were just-"

"Deciding on a film to watch," Rose cut in, sending Mickey a sharp glare as she settled in beside the Doctor. _Shut up._

"_That's_ what I walked in on?" said the Doctor doubtfully, slipping an arm around Rose's waist as his eyes darted between her and Mickey. "Yowza. I can't even imagine what terrible film you must have suggested, Rose...wait." His gaze fixed on Mickey, scrutinizing and judgmental. "It was a Disney title, wasn't it? And you went and called it childish or something. You seem like that sort of person."

Ignoring Mickey's protests, the Doctor smiled at Rose. "Disney always gets my vote, of course, so I'm on board to watch whatever you want." Then his eyes went unfocused. "Unless. You didn't pick Enchanted, did you?"

Rose's brows drew together. "What's wrong with Enchanted?"

His nose curled as if she'd just handed him a salad. "I shut it off when it stopped being animated. Seemed too much like a musical."

Now her left eyebrow arched slowly upward. "Pete's Dragon."

His free hand fluttered, waving around as if it might magically conjure up a good argument. "Right, yes, but. It's about a dragon. Love a dragon."

Rose continued to stare him down. "Mary Poppins."

This time he sniffed, loftily. "Rose. That is a story about a Time Lady. Obviously."

Rose thought a second, her gaze turning speculative. "Oh wow, is it really-"

"Oh, good grief!" Mickey scrubbed a hand over his short-cropped hair. "We weren't talking about films at all. Before you came in, I'd just questioned Rose on why she had to be the person to jump back through that rift. _That's_ why she bit my head off."

Rose turned a glare on him, jaw jutting in indignation. "Perfect opportunity to just let it go, and does he take it? Course not."

Mickey looked slightly repentant. "Look here, Rose, I was there for all of your void jumps. I know that if there's an expert on crossing dimensions, it's you. But I also know the risks, and this time, the universe isn't at stake. All I want is to hear him tell me it's safe enough."

Beside, the Doctor was silent, tense, and Rose knew he was torn. He and Rose had already slogged this out, and he had not come out the winner. And here was Mickey, ready to take his side in a heartbeat. It had to be tempting.

"See," said Mickey, when the Doctor still didn't speak. "I knew it. This proves it."

"All it proves is that he wants to wrap me up in cotton-wool. Right?"

"It's safe enough," said the Doctor on exhale, fingers denting the leather armrest. "Certainly far safer than how Rose broke through before. Last time she was a...a stone in a sling-shot, with the TARDIS' little homing circuit aiming her toward the correct parallel planet." His hand gripped her waist tighter, thumb stroking as he looked at her. "It was sheer luck, your landing in that sleepy little neighborhood. Could've ended up in the middle of a mountain, or the bottom of the ocean, or worse."

"But this time we have two TARDIS's," added Rose quickly, in response to her friends' dismayed faces. "So we'll be able to create this sort of, well, it's like a metaphysical tether between them, and the void can't break it. The Doctor will have a lock on me and my location the entire time. So I'll land in Pete's World, and while I wait to power back up, the Doctor'll travel to where we want the new rift to open. My ship will be drawn straight to his on the return trip."

"Like magnets attracting," said the Doctor, and the Smiths nodded comprehendingly.

"Have you decided on a good spot to come through?" asked Martha.

"Lots of uninhabited places on this planet," said the Doctor, relaxing. "Upper Himalayas, northern Siberia, dozens upon dozens of islands. But, with safety in view, we're shooting for the middle of the world's most desolate continent. Over five million square miles of nothing but ice and penguins, oh, and the occasional research station. We'll stay away from those."

"So Antarctica then?"

"Yes. And since I'll be right there the moment Rose arrives and the new breach is born, I should be able to stabilise it, limit future growth."

Rose stared Mickey down. "Happy?"

"Suppose." He shrugged. "Still wish you didn't need to do it at all."

"That makes two of us," muttered the Doctor, exhaling.

"Oops, gotta run," said Martha, glancing at her watch. "Don't have too much fun without me, kids. And by the way, Doctor, if you decide to give Enchanted another go, Mickey's never seen it." She winked at Rose.

"And I never will," announced Mickey, stretching out on the sofa again, one arm behind his head. "Right, Boss?"

"You never did give it a proper chance, Doctor," said Rose quickly, deciding Mickey did not deserve to get his way in this. Snuggling closer, she let one hand drift up to his chest. "And I haven't seen that movie in ages."

Warily, the Doctor's eyes met her wide, pleading ones. Nibbling her bottom lip, Rose waited patiently for his answer, scratching her fingernails lightly round and round one of his buttons. His breathing hitched, pupils visibly dilating.

Oh yes, victory was hers.

"Suppose it's not so bad," conceded the Doctor, on a long exhale.

Rose rewarded him with her best smile and a kiss to his shoulder.

A spluttering protest came from the sofa opposite. "Seriously?" Mickey was the picture of annoyed disbelief. "I can't believe what I'm seeing- the last of the Time Lords, totally whipped." He turned beseeching eyes on the Doctor. "Listen, mate, you can't give in every time she gives you the eyes or someday your life'll be a nightmare. A man's gotta stand up for what he wants sometimes- _Ow!"_ Mickey yelped, cringing into himself, dealt a heavy smack to the back of his head from Martha, just as the remote flew over and pelted his chest like a small black missile.

The Doctor grinned, delighted. "Ha. Now that, mate, that's every man's worst nightmare. The missus and the ex."

* * *

Rose inhaled sharply as her eyelids briefly fluttered open.

"Hey, shh." A hand stroked her hair and Rose struggled to wake up, blinking in the dim light, and realised where she was- still cuddled up in the Doctor's arms, her head pillowed on his chest. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied groggily, trying to sit up a little. Squinting at the flat-screen, she found the DVD's title page playing, volume turned down low. Mickey was gone. "How long have I been asleep?"

She felt his light chuckle. "Oh, since sometime before Giselle crawled out of the man-hole."

"And you two kept on watching it by yourselves?"

"I didn't dare suggest otherwise. Too afraid of what might happen if you woke up."

Giggling, Rose propped her head against the back of the couch. "Admit it, Time Lord. You liked it."

"Yes, I did, but Mickey liked it more. Pretty sure he got weepy during the ball scene, and if he thinks I'm forgetting that any time soon-"

She cut off his ramble with a well-timed "_shh_," and slid her arm around his middle, snuggling back in as if he were her favourite pillow. "No more talking. M'tired."

Instead of protesting, his hand resumed its slow stroke of her hair, and Rose let her eyes fall shut, pleased that he was going along with this. "If you keep that up I might sleep here all night," she whispered a few minutes later, just to gauge his reaction.

His only reply was a low sound, as if he were half-asleep himself.

It was bliss, this stolen, quiet intimacy, and Rose couldn't bear to waste it in actual slumber. Sooner or later propriety would creep back over him, and his fidgeting would be a prelude to his farewell, and she'd shuffle off to her cold bed, alone. Unless...had he possibly nodded off?

The Doctor's body was slumped and relaxed, his breathing slow and rhythmic, and Rose longed for a peek at his face. Instead, she feigned sleep, banking on him being loathe to disturb her. All in all, a pretty solid plan- or it could've been, if only her hand had behaved itself. But the landscape underneath it was a tempting one, eventually too tempting, and under the pretense of stirring Rose allowed her fingertips to explore the curve of his ribcage, his flat belly. Toned and trim he was, though a bit more sturdily built this time around.

She stifled a groan when he inhaled, long and sharp. The gig was up. "I should go," he murmured. "You're tired."

"You just got here." Her tone was whinging, but she didn't care. "Let's watch another film."

"Oh, I'd love to." Escaping her grip on him, the Doctor got to his feet and gave her a reluctant smile. "Which is exactly why I shouldn't."

Pitching sideways into the warm space he'd just vacated, Rose gave him her best sad-eyed look, bottom lip out for emphasis. "Do you really have to?"

He paused in buttoning his coat, staring at his fingers for a moment before his eyes lifted to hers. "Yes. But," he added slowly, "nothing says you can't come with me. I'll call Kate Stewart, have her put in a request for your immediate transfer to London. Of course it won't be for real, but nobody here will know the difference, eh?"

Thrown by this, Rose took a long breath, pulling the blanket up around her waist. "It's only nine more days. And my friends planned this party-"

"Nine? Since when is it _nine_?"

Rose blinked at him, taken back by the sharpness in his tone. "Two weeks notice, remember? And it hasn't even been one."

He plunged a hand through his hair. "I thought that was just, just a figure of speech. You'd said a few _days_. What's with all this waiting, Rose? First time you came with me you didn't even pack a bag, just hopped right onboard-"

"Oi, that was a long time ago. I was nineteen years old, and you of all people should remember that I didn't even have a _job_-"

"Yes, yes," he jumped in. "You're a responsible grown-up now, I get it. Thing is though, it's not totally about the job, is it? You're stalling. Giving the universe every last chance to toss out some sign that you're doing wrong by me. Admit it."

Rose stared toward the dark windows, trying to muster up a good amount of indignation. "I'm not... I've made my decision, and it's you. It was never gonna be anything else."

The Doctor crossed his arms, not much placated by this. "But you feel guilty about it."

"I...can't help it. I know you think this is a dream come true, but you need to accept that a small part of me might always..." She shrugged a little, rubbing one temple. "I don't know. Be waiting for the other shoe to drop."

The Doctor's sigh was forceful, full of pent-up frustration. "But that's so _irrational_. And there've been no more bad dreams, no weird premonitions? Like you had about him?"

She shook her head. "No, no more bad dreams. It's just...a little, leftover sliver of my old fears. That's all. And I'm sorry if that bothers you, if you think I'm being irrational or whatever, but you don't get to dictate how I feel."

"You're right." All the fight drained from his tall form as he slumped back down beside her. "I'm sorry. You've not been unreasonable, not about anything. I had no call to get upset."

"It's all right," she said, stroking his sleeve. "It's the situation, yeah? Think we're both a bit on edge. And I don't know, maybe I am stalling, a bit. But it's not because I'm looking for some excuse to run away. S'more that I'm just so, so happy right now." Rose laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm so happy, and once we take that final step...everything will be perfect. I'm terrified that something is waiting to ruin it."

Rose felt him nod, his cheek on her hair. "And I'm terrified that we'll never get to that point. I just want to...to sweep you up this instant and carry you off, hide away in the vortex where nothing can snatch you away from me."

"Now who's being irrational?" she asked, with a gentle smile up at him.

But there was no acknowledging return smile. "I just came from London, Rose," he whispered, with a reluctance which made her dread his next words. "The breach has grown again, and not just a small bit. It's not stable. I don't dare leave it go for any more than another day, maybe two. Let alone _nine_."

"Blimey, Doctor. Why didn't you say something hours ago?"

"I...I don't know. I meant to, but then I saw you and I couldn't deal with it anymore; I just wanted to put it out of my mind. Figured it would be fine until Saturday, and then we'd get married and high-tail it out of this time-stream. And as long as we stay out, we can take as much time as we want to-"

"And spend our honeymoon with a threat hanging over our heads?" Rose scooted back, putting a little space between them on the cushions. "You really wanna do that?"

"It's better than the alternative."

"What, that we actually deal with the bloody thing? And then get on with our lives, happily?"

The Doctor gazed at her from deep-set eyes. "It's forcing my hand, Rose, and I don't like it. Things never go smoothly when I've been backed into a corner."

"It's bad timing, yes, I'll give you that. But for argument's sake, let's say you're right. You and I swan off, get married, have a blissful few months of it. But the rift is waiting, we can't put it off forever. And when we finally go for it, something major goes wrong just like you're so scared of, and we end up separated. What then? Aren't our chances of finding each other again far better if we're not also dealing with the very real trauma of a broken bond?"

Swallowing, he nodded agreement, though his tight jaw and dull eyes made it plain he didn't want to. He wanted to cash in those months of happiness now, for fear of losing his chance at them entirely.

It was her turn to be the rational one. "So it's settled, then. That thing can't be put off anymore, so let's get it over with. First thing in the morning."

Instantly, he froze. "What? Tomorrow?" As he stared at her, Rose saw relief flash in his eyes and knew he'd discovered some obstacle. "You have to work tomorrow."

"Cute," she teased, "how a Time Lord can forget about his time-machine like that. But it doesn't matter; I think I'll call in sick anyway. You know, just to make room for driving errors." Sliding closer, she poked him in the ribs, grinning coyly at him until a reluctant smile emerged. He really needed to lighten up a little.

"I'm beginning to think that Mickey was right," he muttered, rubbing an eye. "I am incapable of saying no to you."

"Good," said Rose cheerfully, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "That means you'll stay for another film after all. Cause I'm not tired at all anymore."

Though she must've been, because when she thought back, she remembered next to nothing of the second movie. Rose woke hours later to drizzly grey morning, still sprawled out on the sofa. Blinking at the windows, she felt blearily lost, and then she registered the hand on her hip. Oh, he'd _stayed_\- indeed, he was spooned up behind her, and (she confirmed with a little crane of her neck) he was sound asleep.

Rose closed her eyes with a happy sigh.

It had to bode well, that the day was off to such a good start.

* * *

Resignation must have set in, because the Doctor was back to his normal, impatient self, ushering Rose out the door as early as she'd let him- which wasn't all that early, since she had made it a point to say goodbye to Martha and Mickey and Charlie.

Which, in hindsight, hadn't helped the poor man's anxiety in the slightest.

Two tall boxes of the bluest blue stood side by side in the now familiar London neighborhood, bright against a backdrop of dreary autumn morning. A cool breeze swirled in through Rose's TARDIS, the propped-open door creaking irregularly under the shifting weight of its fidgety Time Lord door-stop.

"...might take an hour, might take ten, don't know," he prattled on, hands twisting incessantly. "But whatever you do, don't attempt the return trip until you're sure the TARDIS has had enough time for a full recharge."

From where she leaned against the railing, Rose gave him an indulgent smile. "Stop worrying so much. Your instructions are practically burned into my brain."

"Yes, well, good thing that. Once you pass through the void-"

"No more communication, I know. Just the flashy orange light on the console. Gonna keep an eye on that, knowing it's my link to you. It'll be like you're with me the whole time."

His lips turned up, eyes lingering on hers. "I have a feeling I'll be doing lots of hovering round that light, myself."

"I wish you'd go and pick up Mickey or somebody before you head to Antarctica," said Rose suddenly. "You're gonna go mad otherwise, all those hours of waiting all on your own. What if days pass by before you get the alert that I'm on the way back?"

"I'll be perfectly all right, as long as that light reassures me you're safe. And oh, that reminds me- it's possible that the indicator light might switch off if you end up with extremely low power. Don't panic, it won't mean the link's been broken. Can't be. It's permanent, now."

"Lucky time-ships," said Rose softly, twirling her hair with a finger.

He managed a smile, but the hand that went up to tug on his bow-tie was trembling nonetheless. Oh, she hated seeing him worry like this. But soon it would be worth it. Soon, it would be over and done and she'd run to meet him, fling herself into his arms, and see his beloved face alight with joy.

But making that future happen meant summoning all her courage now. Hopping off the railing, she went in for one last hug. "Ready?"

"No," he said, and she could hear him swallow hard as he held her tight. "Not even close."

"I'll be back before you know it." Sliding her hands over his shoulders, Rose took hold of his lapels and tugged. "I promise."

The Doctor nodded, staring down at her hands on his coat.

"See you later," she said, and with a gentle push to his chest, indicated it was time for him to let her go. Silently, he unlocked his arms from her waist, his body hard and tightly wound, as if doing so took every bit of his strength.

The floor clanged dully with her single step back, and Rose cleared her throat, trying to get his attention. "Oi, Doctor. You're supposed to say, 'not if I see you f-'"

In a flash he had her upper arms in a bruising hold, and his eyes searched hers, red but resolute. "Wait. I..." He swallowed again. "I want to kiss you."

After a little gasp, Rose choked back the '_yes'_ that sprung to her tongue. "What, in case you never get another chance?"

He said nothing, just looked at her with tortured eyes. Steeling herself, Rose pulled in a shuddering breath. "I want you to. But to mark the beginning of our happiness. Not because you're afraid it might end."

Tight-jawed, the Doctor took his hands off her, backing slowly out the door. "Come back to me, Rose."

She smiled reassuringly. "Don't I always?"

* * *

_Come back to me._

Rose stumbled into the darkened loo, slamming the door on the smoky, pitch-black corridor. Gulping deeply of the clearer air, she tossed her mobile onto the countertop, its tiny built-in torch aimed upward to illuminate the area with meager, spectral light. Her features were shadowed, hollow, as she leaned forward to peer into the mirror.

Contributing nicely to the eerie scene, blood trickled in slow, dark streaks down the left side of her face. With her eye all puffed and purplish she looked a proper monster, but the actual wound wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Just a good sized gash over the eyebrow, thanks to...well, it felt like the sharp jerk of cable snapping, followed by a plunging free-fall and an impact bad enough to cause several minor explosions. It was amazing that she hadn't been knocked-out, left to die from smoke inhalation-

Yeah. This was a little incident she'd best keep to herself.

After rummaging through drawers, Rose pressed a clean towel to her wound, then drew a sharp breath as the room tilted, little bubbles of light bursting in her vision. Stepping backward with free hand extended, Rose found the toilet and sank down onto it, cradling her head in her hands. Gradually, with slow, counted breaths, relief came as the room stopped spinning, going dark and still once more. Though that, her clearer mind realised, was a worse problem. A lack of emergency lighting was foreboding as all get out, especially when coupled with the cortex-deep mind-ache which wasn't from her head wound; a crawling, silent solitude-

The seasoned soldier in Rose cut off the thought. Catastrophizing was step one on the road to defeat; it was time to think things through logically. Okay, so there was no power. Something in the main power room was acting up, that was all. But she had other needs to tend to first- like the gash in her forehead, her bloody, sticky face. All right, she thought to herself. Back to the sink. Wet a clean washcloth, don't use too much water. Supplies are probably limited.

After cleaning herself up as best she could in such scanty light, and a quick stop in the medbay for a bandage, Rose trekked the winding corridors to power room one.

She poked around in there for quite some time, despite having concluded almost immediately that performing any sort of diagnostics was beyond her level of expertise. On the bright side, she did come across a real torch, hung on a wall bracket just inside the door.

With it in hand, Rose trudged back toward the console room. Now what? If the ship had gone...unconscious, so to speak, likely nothing but time would revive her, but right now Rose couldn't abide the idea of sitting around, waiting and praying. Wondering.

_Can you hear me at all?_ she projected as she walked the cavern-like halls. _Cause some sort of sign, a hint that you're okay really wouldn't go amiss right about now-_ before finishing the thought, Rose halted with a gasp. Light, faint but glorious, spilled from the control room's entrance. Hopes soaring, she grinned and dashed the final few meters.

But once inside, her steps faltered, her smile fading. This wasn't right. There was light, per se, but not the usual ethereal glow. The glass cylinder of the Time Rotor stood tall and dull, reflecting light instead of emitting it, its lack of pulsating throb like an absent heartbeat. Slowly she crept forward, steps echoing in the tomb-like quiet, until she discovered it- sunshine, pouring in through the small windows over the door. The warmth and brightness should've been comforting, but a chill prickled her flesh at the sight.

She supposed she should be grateful. She'd made it; she hadn't been lost to the void. But Rose had meant to avoid facing Pete's World again. Her life here was over, and there was nothing out there for her but memories. Memories and pain.

What if her only hope to get back lay outside those doors? No. It was a ridiculous idea. Almost as stupid as her other idea, that stupid _what if_ which had wormed its way into her mind, making her heartbeat too fast and her breaths too short no matter how much she tried to reject it.

_What if the TARDIS never-_

Her feet kept moving; her hand on the doorknob before she thought, twisting till the door creaked open. The low, sinking sun hit her square in the face and Rose squinted as she stepped out, gravel crunching beneath her trainers. She shadowed her eyes with a hand, scanning right and left.

Oh, good heavens...she knew this street. Knew those run-down old factories and warehouses, the weedy, crumbling pavement. A few cars were parked here and there, and she knew one of them too- a shiny black Jeep. Standard Torchwood-issue. Why-

She knew why. She knew this _day_.

And it wasn't fate which had brought her here. More like the nature of that rift; the Doctor had described it as being like a turned-out shirtsleeve, easily corrected by a reverse pass through. _Of course _she'd returned to the point of departure- almost the exact time too; likely within half an hour.

Rose took in the graffiti-scrawled buildings with a sense of detachment. Seasoned time-traveler that she was, the realisation that she'd been here before -twice- made her head swim. At this moment, as she stood here, one past self was braving the void, while another, even earlier self was with the Ponds in that very warehouse, racing time to save her Doctor.

Her own presence here was pointless. With a jerky inhale, Rose slid to sit against the TARDIS. It felt strange, chill and alien at her back, not making even the slightest effort to keep up the pretense of being sun-soaked wood.

And then the tears fell.

The TARDIS was dead, and she was stuck. Trapped in a world and time that already had a Rose Tyler, so what did that make her? Nothing but a...a superfluity. A pointless superfluity, with no purpose but to hide, waiting for the Doctor to come after her...

The Doctor. No no no, his face in her mind was the last thing she needed, her lungs were already too small, soon they wouldn't hold any air at all. Didn't help that his expression was horror-stricken and terrified, his eyes on that little bond-light as it winked out of existence, like a snuffed candle. Losing his hold on her, just as he'd been afraid of.

Breathing came easier when Rose saw him setting his jaw, straightening his thin shoulders. Nothing would stop him coming here. (Big) problem was, would his search ever extend this far back in her timeline? Especially as it was so close to a point his own past self had visited?

Down the street, a warehouse door swung open with a rusty grind, startling her and scattering her thoughts. At the sight of Amy's red hair Rose scrambled to her feet, hastily ducking back into the TARDIS. Leaning against the door, she waited for her heart to slow, and her eyes fell on the darkened console, prompting memories of the time she'd torn it open it her desperation to get back to the Doctor.

_I want you safe, my Doctor._

Rose could never truly regret it. She'd saved him that day, after all, along with civilizations and Captain Jack. The motives of her immature-teenaged-self-turned-goddess were not entirely self-serving.

A million times she'd wondered how different everything might be if the Bad Wolf had stopped at that. Without taking things too far, with her _I create myself. _I create my own future.

Not that her husband had ever bought into it, and neither did this Doctor. Saw the whole idea as stuff and nonsense, backed it with convincing arguments and everything. And Rose had _wanted_ him to convince her.

But now- if he was right, Bad Wolf hadn't planned out their future- then there was a chance that she'd stay here. Alone, forever.

But if she was right...

Wow, was she actually hoping to be right? Sod it all, she didn't even know anymore. All she cared was that she somehow get home to the Doctor. This couldn't be their ending. Losing her now would irrevocably break him.

And wasn't that just perfect. She kills the first Doctor to marry her, and breaks the next one. It fit the callous, selfish Wolf narrative so incredibly well that Rose sank to her knees, for a moment convinced she'd finally stumbled upon the truth.

Then- she laughed. Not a hysterical, fearful laugh, but a real one. How could she have ever believed something so ridiculous? It wasn't _true_, it was a paranoid fantasy, like...like a childhood monster under the bed. The _truth_ was that Rose Tyler would never put her Doctor through any of that on purpose. She loved him.

Yet one discordant fact remained. If she cared so much for the Doctor's well-being and safety, why had her husband gone and _died_? Why had he given his life just so she could up and carry on with his counterpart?

_I'm part-human. I'll grow old and never regenerate. I've only got one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you, if you want._

One life.

One life, that he _had_ spent with her. And wouldn't he be the first person to claim it had been a full, rich, wonderful one? But- it had always had a time limit. That was not news to Rose, she'd accepted it from day one.

And then came a revelation.

Her problem wasn't with his death.

It was that she had gone on living.

Her heart thudded in her ears as finally, it all fit. It was okay that she hadn't died with him, because there was a Doctor out there who still needed her.

"Oh my god," breathed Rose, her hand at her mouth. "It wasn't selfish. All along, it's all been about _him_."

And that meant their story wasn't over. Hope surging anew, Rose paced across the room, hand on the back of her neck. No way in hell was she going to roll over and wait around for the Doctor. Which of them was better at dimension hopping, anyway? All she needed was a plan.

A plan. And, she quickly concluded, help.

But who could she turn to? Not the human Doctor. He'd been through enough because of her.

That made Torchwood (and their wonderful alien tech) her best bet. And Pete was her guy. He'd seen enough crazy things to believe her at once, and he was entirely trustworthy. No doubt he'd help her get the things she needed, once she figured out what that was. Too bad they'd never found any evidence of the Time Agency operating here, one of their vortex manipulators would come in handy. Maybe there was some way to salvage the TARDIS' time spanner, to search future time zones for signs of the two-hearted Time Lord...

Rose gripped her skull, fingers deep in her hair. What was she thinking? She already knew the first place he'd show up. Here. Right now. Across the bloody _street_.

She opened the door and stared blankly out. She couldn't just...go and find him, could she? Far too dangerous, tempting as it was. He couldn't find out so much about his own future.

Then again...did he really need to know he was helping her? Couldn't she just...stow away?

Rose grinned, seeing herself sneaking onboard a TARDIS without the knowledge of its resident Time Lord. It was unbelievably risky but she had to try, didn't she? And if she didn't move soon, she'd lose her chance.

As she crossed the console room she teared up again. Blimey, if this worked, this was the last time she'd lay eyes on her dear TARDIS. Even lifeless, she was still Rose's last link to her old life, her old home, and more, she was her friend. The one who'd been there for her for so long, when she was adrift and alone.

Sniffling, Rose fetched the torch from where she'd tossed it on a jump-seat and headed for their old bedroom. Once there, she took an old knapsack from the cupboard and began to fill it, trying not to dwell too much on what she was doing. A couple of photo-books went in first as she wandered around, a few flash-drives containing lifetimes of pictures, the good jewelry the human Doctor had given her, some other small, precious mementos. Last of all, Rose picked up the wedding ring he'd made her from her bedside table and, for safekeeping, threaded it onto the chain with her TARDIS key.

Then the torch's yellow beam fell on a pair of his old glasses, perched atop a pile of books beside the bed. _His sexy specs_\- oh, and didn't he know it. Rose smiled, the image of him crystal clear in her mind. How his eyes, bright and sharp with intelligence, were somehow made more so. How smug his smile would get if he caught her looking.

He was the Doctor and she'd always love him; didn't matter that he was gone, she no longer alone. Into her bag the specs went, swathed carefully in an old tee-shirt, and then, after a breath of deliberation, they were joined by his ratty old pair of red Converse.

"Goodbye," said Rose, as she walked out the blue doors for the last time.

And stopped.

The knapsack slipped from her shoulder unheeded, hit the ground with a muted thud.

It was in the graffiti, in spray-paint swirls of orange and red and gold, the lines and curves so perfect that it was unmistakable. Unmissable.

No. There was no way that had been there before.

_BAD WOLF._

It was the proverbial straw- too much, far too much for any one day or any one person to take in. Her dull, constant mind-ache increased ten-fold as throbbing pain set in deep in her temples, behind her eyes, like the onset of the worst migraine ever. The sunset's soft pink light hurt her so badly that she was driven back onto the ship.

Rose found herself at the console, her hands desperately, inexplicably roaming over the dark, watery blur of knobs and dials.

"Help me," she begged at last, slumping forward onto its curved, familiar shape. "Are you still here? Please. What is going on? Tell me what to do. If I don't go to him now, I might miss my chance..."

A wave of warm gold, its source unknown, crested and silenced her.

Blackness followed, and she slept.

* * *

**I do apologize for this massive cliffhanger. Swear I'll make it up to you guys with the next chapter though. BIG resolutions ahead. ;)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Okay. I need to take a moment to say a huge THANK YOU to all of you wonderful readers. I never expected this story to take so many months to write (not that it's done) and you all have been so patient with me and my oft-delayed updates.**

**Some of you have been following this thing since I posted the beginning well over a year ago, or for the last several months at least. And it is to you that I dedicate this chapter. :) I really, really hope it fulfills expectations. 3**

* * *

Fifty-three hours, sixteen minutes, nine seconds.

Ten seconds. Eleven.

Two steps for every count, the Doctor, perspiring and clad in only his shirtsleeves, paced the console room in a blind circuit. His body moved on auto-pilot, while most of his energy went into keeping his mind corralled into planning mode, when it badly wanted to escape into panic.

Fifty-five hours. Give it that long, and if he still hadn't worked up a few decent ideas that made him feel more secure about things, then he could give up. Let go his tenuous finger-hold on control. What a relief it would be, to let gravity take over, to plunge into the darkness and learn the particulars of whatever plan the desperate, emotional part of his psyche was scheming up. A plan almost certainly entitled _"Bring Rose Home at Any Cost"_.

Rose would not be a fan of the "at any cost" bit. He didn't like it much himself, at the moment. But he knew his future self, the one he'd be handing the keys over to one hour and forty-some minutes from now, wouldn't be so particular. It was all the Doctor could do to hold him at bay even now, his taunts and demands louder and more persuasive with every step, every second.

_Sentimental romantic fool; you knew this was going to happen. Knew it, and you let her go anyway. Fixing this would be so simple, so easy, you owe it to her, it's the only way you're guaranteed to get her back_

Dangerous thoughts were cut off as he stumbled over nothing, catching himself with hands flat against the console. With a drawn-out exhale, he slumped there for a moment, head hanging, and as his vision slowly focused there it was again- that innocuous little circuit, which was sure to show up in future nightmares. A square of metal with an orange glass center, it sat lopsided and loose and askew in its bracket, looped wires bulging out from beneath it. In spite of his every effort to prove otherwise, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the thing.

In theory, its light could still blink back to life. It could prove him wrong.

_Please let me be wrong._

His eyes were dry and burning by the time he straightened, angrily pushing away. Idealistic idiot he was, standing around and waiting for miracles. That bloody light was off because the link had broken. The link was broken because Rose's TARDIS had not survived the trip. It was the only explanation, and all the wishing in the world wasn't going to change it. Or bring her back.

No, he would no doubt have to do that himself.

_One way or another._

As he resumed his pacing, the Doctor's hand jammed into his trouser pocket to close around a smooth, spherical object. A knob, nicked from Rose's TARDIS, and it meant he could still play this according to the rules, sort of. Once placed in his ship's psycho-telemetric homing circuit, it would be his key to Pete's World. Meant risking his life of course, his TARDIS, and even to some extent the universe itself, not that those things concerned him all that much right now.

The real problem was that every single one of his dozens of plans doing with Rose and that rift had been built around her having a TARDIS. If she didn't return for whatever reason, the link between ships meant finding her would be a non-issue. But now, without it, she was well and truly lost. Even his advanced scanning equipment could not differentiate _his_ Rose from the earlier versions of her that were roaming all over that parallel continuum. He could spend years at it, might never-

Ah, there he went, sneaking off into panic again. Shoulders hunched, the Doctor pressed hard at his temples, trying to burst all the little bubble-visions that had floated in (him, alone, in all sorts of wrong places, Rose after Rose, none of them looking for him). There had to be a good way to track her down and if he would just _concentrate_, he'd think of it. He was brilliant.

Rose was brilliant too.

Another fact that made the fifty-five hour wait necessary.

Determined, unpredictable, with a penchant for achieving the impossible, Rose Tyler was a wild card. What if he went swanning off and missed her return? The prospect terrified him. The Doctor was not about to spend his life on a ghost-chase, breaking laws left and right, all for lack of a little patience and care.

_Or you could just break one big law, right here right now, one law, and have her back instantly, without question_

A low beep sounded, jolting his hearts. One quick dash half around the console and he had the monitor's side handles clutched in both hands, eyes darting over the results of the latest scan. Unsurprisingly, the remote-parallel sequence had failed again. Still no other TARDIS to parallel _with_.

Well, of course there wasn't, he thought, swallowing fiercely. And there won't be. But you're going to keep doing this, for her, till the clock runs out. Poking at the keyboard with his index finger, the Doctor re-entered the sequence. Slow, forced taps, keeping time with the chanting in his head.

_Useless useless useless useless_

The monitor, the keys, everything had gone blurry by the time he finished, and the Doctor blinked away the stinging in his eyes, hauling in a shuddering breath. On hearing himself, the sound of his own weak ineptitude, he stilled, every muscle tensing, as a choking, black rage settled over him like a sudden storm. The keyboard's plastic casing creaked as his hands gripped, squeezed, till his throat closed up and his forearms shook with the sheer amount of force exerted.

_You'll be forced to it in the end, so just cross the bloody timeline and GET HER_

Punctuating the furious mental command, his arms went up, jerking the keyboard free of its connections, his teeth clenching as he hurled it away with all of his strength. Its splintering crash (and resultant hindering of GET HER) hardly registered as he blazed through the room, not slowing until a white, frigid wind spun him around, nearly knocking him off his feet.

He was outside, he knew, nothing to see but white, the only sound a blessedly deafening roar. Freezing air stole into his lungs as he fumbled with the TARDIS door and then collapsed against it, losing himself in the blinding, stinging swirl of ice. Letting the cold soak in, till his mind was as numb as his body.

Eventually his old girl (apparently none too keen on either of them becoming a permanent part of this landscape) decided enough was enough, and as she flung open the doors at his back he went tumbling in, a frozen heap on the ramp.

"Nice," he grumbled once he'd thawed a bit, glaring up into the cavernous ceiling. He was too exhausted to tell her off properly. Too exhausted to do much of anything really, including go mad.

Well, that was something.

The metal railing felt warm under his stiff fingers as the Doctor clambered to his feet, bending forward as the room spun and his time-sense stuttered back online. It was now, he realised with a jolt, just past the fifty-six hour mark.

Without a second thought, he old-man hobbled to the console, toggle knob already in his hand.

Button to the homing circuit's under the curve, press it. Shut the drawer. Dematerialization sequence. It was the work of seconds and before he knew it, his hand gripped the final lever. It wanted to be thrown down, was ready to slingshot him through the fragile glass of dimensions, and

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

He frowned, eyes searching the motley collection of buttons and dials and lights.

_Beep._

The scan.

His gaze fell on his hand on the lever and then lifted to the monitor, which was opposite him and facing away. With a sigh, he let go, beginning to side-step over there, and then nearly lost his footing as the TARDIS surged into action, Time Rotor pulsing rapidly.

"No!" he shouted in horror, looking back in time to see the final lever falling of its own accord. "What are you doing?!"

As if in answer, the monitor crackled. He stretched, snagging one handle with his fingertips, and hauled it over.

_Remote Parallel Initiated_

The Doctor was still gaping in shock at the screen, clutching the console for balance, when the TARDIS pulled off a quiet, smooth landing.

Coordinates, he thought, hand already patting around, searching for the keyboard, he needed his coordinates _now, _and he swore as he came up with a handful of loose cables. Scanning the room, he spied his coat piled on the captain's chair, scrambled for it ungracefully and plucked out the sonic. With unsteady hands, he aimed it outward and the viewscreen flicked to the next mode obediently, displaying the current location in precise Gallifreyan.

An island, unnamed. Mid-Atlantic.

1892.

His face scrunched up. _What?_

Dragging a hand across his eyes, the Doctor switched to the outside view. Sure enough, sand was everywhere, shadowed by trees, scattered bits of sunlight sneaking through palm fronds overhead.

Heavy-hearted, in no mood for some cheerfully sunny beach, the Doctor threw open the door, not entirely sure why he was bothering. Oven-like heat passed over him in a wave, and as he stepped out into it, he caught a whiff of sea-salt tang. It was jarring, like waking abruptly from a vivid dream. Had his life ever made less sense than it did now?

Straight ahead the ocean sparkled temptingly, but it was the single glance to his right that sent a thrill straight to the Doctor's toes, had him past caring about any and all things sensical. Because miracles were his favourite, and he had just been handed one.

A beautiful blue Police Box sat only meters from his, tipped slightly backward, supported by the straining, bent trunk of a palm. A great long gouge of soil and sand, and the broken remains of a few smaller trees, made a messy path to her doors, and her back and sides were sand-spattered, half buried. It looked as if she had burst from the sky and and come to a skidding halt.

Two steps toward it, hardly daring to hope- oh bugger, what if he was simply about to annoy some future version of himself?- he saw the footprints. Each made of five little hollows opposite a larger one, small and feminine, they tracked through the sandy soil beneath the trees. Led down to the beach.

The Doctor ran.

"Rose!" he shouted hoarsely, laying eyes on a slim, blonde-haired figure the instant he cleared the tree line.

She spun, mouthing his name, and he flailed to a stop, breath catching in his throat. Then some unseen force spurred him forward again, and he went dashing her way at a frantic pace, boots slipping unsteadily on the soft sand, sun dazzling in his tear-blurred eyes.

Rose was running too, helping close the distance until they collided like stars. Shaky legs gave out, and together they slumped to their knees, clinging and grasping at each other until there wasn't a breath of space between them.

"Rose," he exhaled against her hair, tears freely escaping his tightly shut eyes as the scent of her surrounded him. "Rose."

For awhile there were no other words while they held each other, both in need of the prolonged reassurance that they were together and real. Eventually the Doctor eased back, wanting to see her face. Rose's eyes, as they met his, were red-rimmed but joyful (just like his own, he suspected) and they mustered up wan smiles.

"I thought I lost you." At her back, his hands fisted her tee-shirt anxiously. He was not yet over the agony of the past couple days.

"Never," she countered, brushing his hair back. "I promised."

There was a bandage covering her left eyebrow, distracting him, and he touched a finger to it. "What happened?"

Eyes going unfocused, she bit her lip. "'M not sure. I crashed, I think."

"That's how you got hurt?"

Blinking, Rose put fingers up to her forehead, like she was just now catching his meaning. "Yeah. It's just a cut." One side of her mouth curved up. "Not life threatening."

He managed a tiny smile, shaking his head. "Rose Tyler, you brilliant, amazing woman. How did you get home? The link was broken; still is, far as I know, I was so sure your TARDIS must have died or something-"

"I think she did."

"What?"

"I think she did die. I was...sure of it. Sure enough to consider taking some pretty big risks to get back here."

"What?"

"Yeah, was gonna hitch a ride with your past self-"

_"What?"_

"-but before I got the chance, I passed out or something."

The Doctor's brows drew together, and he sat back, dragging a finger through the sand and waiting for his magnificent brain to unfurl all of this into something comprehensible. It failed.

"So...you got home how, again?" he asked, wondering if he'd missed something major.

Licking her lips, Rose scooted back, swiveling her body. Knees bent, she wrapped her arms around them, a conflicted look on her face as she stared out at the sea. "I think it was Bad Wolf."

Silently, he gazed at her profile. "Rose-"

"No," she said, meeting his eyes, "I know what you're gonna say, but I'm not imagining this, all right? I saw the _words_ this time, the actual words, right before...they were in some graffiti on the side of a warehouse. Remember the warehouses? An' I might've panicked a little, I'm not sure, all I really remember is going back into the TARDIS and not knowing what to do, and next thing I knew I was waking up. And all the lights were on again."

The Doctor tugged at his chin, keen to reject this theory. "The TARDIS was probably just extremely low power. I could've been wrong, thinking that wouldn't break the link. I can't know everything-"

"She's not selfish," stated Rose, as if she hadn't heard him. "Bad Wolf. I was wrong, Doctor. She's...making sure you're safe. Today, she gave me a message, and she led me back here." Her lips turned up, smile blooming into a beautiful, blinding thing that nearly stopped his hearts. "This was always gonna happen. I was always meant to come back to you. And it's _right_."

Absorbing this with wide eyes, a relieved, helpless laugh escaped him, and he hugged her tight. "Okay, all right, let me be sure I understand all this correctly. If our life was a fairy story, does this mean that I, Sir Doctor, have slain all the dragons, and I've finally made it up into your tower?"

Rose tapped a finger to her lips. "Well, if by 'slain', you mean 'bribed away with treats', then yeah. You've rescued me." Her eyes sparkled at him. "So do you know what comes next, in the story?"

He had a pretty good idea, but he shook his head anyway, hoping to hear her to say it.

"Happily ever after, silly," she said, with a fond tug at his collar and a smile more charming than any princess could conjure up.

The Doctor slowly smiled back, letting out a low whistle. "Wow, blimey. Never had a happy ending before. Bit lost. So tell me, Your Highness, how exactly do we go about it?"

"For one thing, we eat," said Rose decisively as they got to their feet. "I'm starving."

He chuckled, brushing sand from his knees. "As you wish."

"See, you've got this!" Rose giggled. "Movie quotes are also very important in happily-ever-afters. So are deserted tropical islands, and..." Abruptly she paused, lips pursing. "Uh oh."

"Hello, don't say that. We can't be having any-"

Rose turned to him, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Doctor, the _rift_. I totally forgot...where did it come out? I don't even know which ocean this is."

"Atlantic. And, if you can believe it, this is 1892. Breach must've opened up somewhere out there," he gestured, "just above the open water. We're on some tiny, nameless island."

Rose looked toward the horizon, shielding her eyes with a hand. "Gosh. Will it be all right? Coming through out here wasn't exactly the plan."

"It'll have to be," he said, crooking an arm over her shoulders. "I'll get the thing stabilised before we leave. Shouldn't get too terribly big."

Rose was quiet, worry creasing her brow. "We aren't too near any future tourist areas, are we? Cruising, or shipping routes?"

"Well," he said slowly, thinking back to the map he'd seen on the monitor, "we are, but the ocean is huge, the chances of anybody getting too close...anyway. This is pretty much the middle of nowhere. We've got Florida to the southwest, and the Bahamas. To the north, I'd say the closest big island would be...Bermuda." He shrugged. "It'll be all right."

Under his arm, Rose stiffened, and looked up at him with her mouth hanging open. Her gaze was meaningful, as if she was sure they were on the same wavelength.

"What?" He frowned at her.

Her eyes only grew wider, but now he saw a smile brewing on her lips.

"Rose," he huffed. "It'd be more fun if I was in on the joke."

Touching her fingers to her mouth, Rose shook her head, all out grinning at him. "Is there another big island is that way?" she asked, pointing southeast.

"Rose-"

"Just answer."

"San Juan."

"And where's Florida again?"

This time he scowled, knowing full well she hadn't forgotten.

Rose laughed. "Doctor. Do try and keep up. You've just told me there is an open breach to another dimension right out there, between San Juan, Florida, and Bermuda." As she named off each place, her finger traced a shape in the air, and his jaw dropped.

"No," he said, dropping his arm from her shoulders to palm his face with both hands. "Please. This is not the center of the Bermuda Triangle."

Another round of giggles erupted at his left.

Shoulders hunched, he stomped away a few paces and kicked up a spray of sand. "Is there any strange anomaly on this planet that I am not somehow responsible for?"

"This one," said Rose easily. "'S my fault, not yours."

"And yet, that doesn't make me feel much better."

She came up to him, patting his chest with a sympathy that he suspected might not be entirely genuine. "Poor baby. But you have to admit, minor disasters are very us. Probably gonna have lots of 'em in our happy ending." She toyed with one of his buttons. "Good thing I know what'll help."

He raised his brows, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Chips," stated Rose, as if it were obvious. "Battered fish."

The Doctor's spirits did lift a little. "Did I say this was 1892? Brilliant year. I've spent quite a lot of time here. I know just the place."

"Mmm, and on that note, I've just thought of something else we need in this happy ever after." There was a gleam in her eye that he couldn't quite place, and then all at once sand spattered his trousers as Rose raced away without warning. "Run!" she yelled over her shoulder.

The Doctor grinned madly as he took off after her, unable to argue with that.

* * *

Less than two hours later they were running again, feet pounding the cobblestone of an old London street. Well, the Doctor's feet were pounding. Rose's made this sort of reluctant scraping sound, and as they came upon the tiny alley containing his TARDIS the Doctor dragged her around the corner, feeling like he had a swearing, spitting cat by the tail.

"How dare you!" she raged, hands going to her hips. "Before I even got a chance to defend myself-"

"Rose, you defended yourself plenty," he told his furious (but rather adorable) fiancée, smothering a laugh as he blocked her escape from the hidden little space between buildings. "Jackie Tyler's got nothing on you. Never saw her actually lay someone out with one of her wallops. Now," he went on, dodging left to block her again, "explain. What on earth did the man do to deserve that?"

Red-faced, Rose crossed her arms, breathing hard through her nose. "He asked me where my husband was, an' when I said I wasn't married he demanded I leave. And when I refused, he grabbed me and _yanked me _from my chair, Doctor. I mean, what the hell?!"

He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh dear, I shouldn't have popped by the kitchen to say hello to old Will. Wait staff must've thought you were dining alone." At her confused look, he added, "Women didn't do that in the nineteenth century. Well, not _nice_ ones, anyway. If you catch my drift."

Rose stilled, lids dropping in a slow blink, and when they lifted his amusement died on finding himself fixed in a piercing stare. "So you're saying he thought I was a prostitute? Do I _look_ like a prostitute?"

His mouth opened on the hope that a fully-formed reassurance might fall out, but no such luck.

"You do? Oi! What's wrong with this dress?" Rose looked down at herself critically, poking at her cleavage, which was very nice, and very well emphasized by the era gown's cut. "You said it was-"

"It _is_ lovely," he assured her, ear-tips burning as he averted his eyes. "Lovely and silky and...and blue, just like the TARDIS, and lovely and..." Trailing off, the Doctor chanced a glance at Rose to see if any of this was winning her over, but her face was deadpan. He sighed. "It wasn't the dress. It was just... all my fault, really. I shouldn't have left you sitting there for idiots to make assumptions. Although," he added, scrutinising her with a thoughtful frown, "part of it may have been all that makeup you're wear..." His mouth clicked shut as her expression bloomed into outrage. Uh oh. Thank heavens he hadn't said a word about her accent.

For a tense few moments he wasn't sure what would happen, but then Rose's lips twitched. "Oh my god," she said, dropping back against the wall with a laugh. "I can't believe this. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been nearly arrested?"

"You were way overdue, then." He chuckled in relief as he slouched alongside her. "See? It's not all bad."

Rose laughed again. "What is wrong with us that we both see that as the redeeming part of this incident? I swear, you are the universe's worst influence."

"Me? I'm not the one who committed a random act of violence."

A bit of pink teased at the corner of her smile, luring his eyes, short-circuiting a few of his higher functions. "You love it," said Rose, all pink-flushed and breathless and suddenly, _very_ close. Probably because he was caging her in, arms bracketing her body, his hands pressed flat on the dusty rough wall. How did that happen? He wasn't sure, but what he did know was that neither of them was smiling anymore.

The air was electric, almost too much, and Rose tipped her head back against the wall to gain a tiny bit of distance. Instantly the Doctor followed, unable to bear more than the scant centimeters separating their foreheads. "Hardly surprising," he managed to say, blood sparking as his lips brushed the tip of her nose. "Very few things that I don't love, when it comes to you."

Rose gave a tiny gasp, her eyes large and searching.

"Oh...I haven't exactly told you that yet, have I?" he went on, shifting the hard lines of his body more firmly against her, felt three racing hearts instead of just two. "Not that I haven't wanted to, but...it needs to be the right moment, see. And though I've thought up thousands of romantic, poetic ways I could do it, whilst hiding in a dark old alley never quite made the cut."

"I dunno," she whispered. "Seems sort of fitting."

"Is it?" He felt his lips form the question, just a breath. "Is this my 'last chance to say it'?"

"No," she countered quietly, then soothed the jab of disappointment with a soft smile. "'S not your last chance at all. In fact, I think...it's your first."

His fingers combed through the hair at her nape, inclining her head to the side with a gentle pressure. Rose closed her eyes, and shivered when his breath puffed hot over her ear.

"Rose Tyler. I have _always_ been in love with you."

English was so inadequate, he thought as he eased back, as they wordlessly gazed at each other. Could such plain, empty language ever convey his depth of meaning? How his love for her was so much a part of him that it had stained through the pages of all of his lives, front to back, past and future and _now_, to the point that "always" was the literal truth?

Rose's eyes were glassy with tears. "I love you too," she replied shakily, and oh, maybe simple human words weren't so rubbish after all. "Forever."

Her hands, still gripping his coat, tugged him incrementally closer. Noses bumped, breath mingled, and then with a pained groan the Doctor wrenched away out of danger, rolling his weight off of her. Putting space between them, he tried to breathe, and shied away as Rose reached for him.

That made her smile, tongue taunting him _again_, and he clunked his head back against the brick. "_Rassilon_, Rose Tyler. Are you ever going to let me marry you?"

"Why?" she teased. "Just so you can snog me?"

"No," he replied with heat, squeezing his eyes shut again. "Yes. It'd be a good start."

Rose hummed. "Best get on with it, then."

His eyes flew open and shot to her. "No, no no no no no. Nine days, Rose. That's the plan, and if you really want to see it through, you'd better stop playing."

Rose bit her lip, her amused expression fading into solemnity. "Sod the plan."

In disbelief, the Doctor froze. Searched her face for hesitation, inspected her eyes for signs of old barriers. And found only love, sincerity, and...

Anticipation.

Reality misted over as time shifted, swirling around them like an eddy. A temporal tipping point, though not the run-of-the-mill sort that he was always tripping into, the sort that handed him his screwdriver and promised some fun. This one was contained. Personal. For once it was _time_ that was meddling with _him_, and although his own future was as fogged-out as ever, it didn't matter. What mattered, the Doctor concluded, as he put his mental finger on it, was that all of Rose's potential outcomes had just up and wandered off into the same hazy fog, and that could only mean-

Everything rushed to snap into place, a vague blur of motion and adrenaline and coarse brick once again gouging the skin of his palms, and then the universe threw up its hands in defeat as the Doctor finally kissed Rose Tyler.

_Slow, careful,_ flitted briefly through his mind, but the Doctor, per usual, paid the cautions no mind, dismissing them in favour of a hot, bruising press of mouths. Locked together, lips fused, two pairs of eyes slammed shut, time slowing to a crawl as they rode out the initial wave of intensity.

As they sank further into the kiss, a tiny sigh came from Rose, sparking the Doctor to life. Hands he'd been supporting himself with slid recklessly into her hair. Bodies shifted, mouths opened, and their static joining gave way to ardent, hungry exploration.

It was too much, too fast, but he was helpless to slow it down. It seemed as if every ounce of his patience had already been wrung out. Either way, it'd be no match for the eons of longing fueling him onward, his hearts thundering wildly as tissue-paper dreams solidified into learning. Past faux-kisses paled away as he tasted her properly, tongue swiping over her bottom lip, all the while marveling that her mouth could be this soft... Soft, yet it had power enough to weaken his knees. Was hot enough to burn him.

Before too long Rose was everywhere, her essence threading into his mind. The bond grew demanding, ever more impatient for completion as their kisses deepened. And although Rose's hands were safely entwined in the lapels of his coat, the Doctor's cradled her head, and oh, the path to her temples was short...

Lost as he was in her, Important Thoughts intruded.

Poked him with a stick.

London.

1892.

_Alley_.

He didn't want to marry her here.

With effort he turned his head away, their mouths separating wetly. Panting, the Doctor stumbled backward and took her in.

Rose looked dazed, her lips swollen, pretty updo a wreck. _My fault_, he realised with pride, and as her lashes fluttered upward the picture she made was so tempting it was all he could do not to pounce on her all over again. "What's wrong?" she asked, breathlessly.

The Doctor plowed a hand through his hair. "Just, well. Can't kiss you any longer without, ehm, sealing the deal. And nice as this place is," he added, nose curling as he looked around, "I had something else in mind. Can we not be all 'sod the plan' for that bit?"

Straightening up, Rose smoothed her hands over the deep-blue bodice of her dress, and then, with a cheeky smirk, drew her TARDIS key out by its chain from its hiding spot between her breasts. "Allons-y?"

Wide-eyed, he drew a swift hand down his face and nodded.

* * *

By some miracle, they managed to keep their hands to themselves during the flight's short duration, and Rose opened the door the second they landed. "Wow," she said, sounding highly surprised as she stepped out onto a red, dusty path bordered by long tufts of grass. "Am I supposed to remember this place?"

"Well, you've been here before, but linearly it was centuries ago." The door creaked as he closed it. "You aren't likely to recognise it; landscape's changed a lot in that time. Now it's far more...flower-y."

That was an understatement. Bare, rocky outcroppings soared high and dark against a fiery backdrop of sunset over a tree-less land, which was draped in greenery and blossoming foliage. Off to the right and below them a massive lake sparkled, tinted pink, bordered by moss and soft pink sand. Grass carpeted the ground all around, long and fine and dusty green as far as the eye could see, running over distant swells and dips which begged to be explored, as if each one hid a delightful secret.

"It's beautiful," Rose commented, turning in slow circles, but her tone was more curious than admiring. "But why-"

"Wait." From behind, the Doctor wrapped his arms around her, and her wavy, now pin-free hair felt soft against his neck and chin. "Watch the sky."

Relaxing into his embrace, Rose obeyed, and for a few minutes they patiently stood there, eyes on a sky streaked with the watered-down orange and reds of civil twilight. The single sun now hovered just over the horizon, its light peeking through the crevices of tall rock formations, but other than that, there was nothing. Until-

"Oh," Rose gasped, as a pair of creatures, their appearance much like the sting-rays found in Earth's oceans, soared overhead. "I know where we are." Her gaze tracked them as they glided away, disappearing behind the massive stone chimneys. "This is one of the last places we visited before Canary Wharf."

The Doctor nodded. "Did other me ever tell you why I brought you here, back then?"

"I thought it was to see the creatures."

"They are cool, aren't they? One of the last remnants of this planet's early days," he said, crooking an arm for her to take and then guiding her down the path, which meandered away from the lake. "It's been terra-formed since we were here last; people started visiting in droves after that. Highly popular wedding destination," he added, in response to her questioning look.

This only seemed to confuse Rose more. "Since when do you- is this like space _Vegas_ or something?"

The Doctor laughed and shook his head, scanning around. At last he spotted a small pile of gravel at a turn in the path and let her to it, then stooped and poked around until he found a bit of clear, pinkish stone.

"Empathic crystal," he explained, placing the stone in her hand after a quick polish against his trousers. "The place is practically made of the stuff. Amplifies emotional energy output so well that even those whose minds are psi-null can pick it up loud and clear." The Doctor gave her a cheeky grin, tweaking his bow-tie. "Go on then. Tell me how I'm feeling right now. All you have to do is pay attention."

Tilting her head, Rose gave him a funny look. "_That's_ what that is?" she asked, and her laugh was definitely _at_ him. "Oh, thank god. For a minute there I was nearly convinced that you'd brought me here cause the atmosphere's an aphrodisiac."

His eyes darted to the hills and his cheeks burned. "Oi, shut up, that's...that's hardly _all_ I'm feeling!"

Rose's grin softened. "No, it's not."

The pair of them grinned at each other like the smitten idiots they were.

"So couples like coming here to get married because they can find out for sure if the other person loves them?"

"You make it sound like a perk, but it's more important than that, isn't it? Most species aren't telepathic, so on making a lifelong commitment they don't first get a peek into the other's heart. But here, they can. They connect and get married and go home, secure in their relationship."

Rose nodded, absorbing his words. "So where is everybody? It's so quiet."

"Oh, if we started nosing around we'd find lots of them." They began walking again, and he pointed off into the distance. "Lots of rooming accommodations over that way, for starters, but you won't find any big hotel complexes. Privacy's the name of the game round here. Lots of secluded, romantic spots."

"What about chapels? There's gotta be spots for gatherings. Reception halls and things."

He nudged her as they continued walking. "Why would there be?"

Rose gave him a look that implied he was very thick, and he chuckled. "I get where you're going with that, but did you ever think about _why_ humans get some officiant to marry them, whilst surrounding themselves with their nearest and dearest? The witnesses are necessary, to lend the proper gravity to such sacred vows. Necessary, for people who _can't_ see into each other's heads."

"Oh, so that's why you brought me here," she quipped. "Domesticity-free wedding."

He laughed. "It's definitely a plus."

They circled a large swell in the landscape and the Doctor, certain of his timing, held his breath, waiting for Rose's reaction. She did not disappoint, gasping aloud as their immediate surroundings changed drastically.

Directly before them, the ground fell away, sloping into an enormous, almost perfectly bowl-shaped canyon. Glassy, translucent, and pink, it was carved from solid crystal, a shallow lake covering its bottom, fed by a waterfall which tumbled over one of the far edges. For a minute, the fading remnant of sunset reflected majestically off the crystal -almost too brightly- but soon the marigold light dimmed, and then died out completely.

"Hold on," said the Doctor, his whisper seeming loud in the near total dark, and enfolded Rose safely in his arms.

They didn't have to wait long. Ever so slowly, stars appeared, large ones and small ones and some that were pinpricks, in whites and blues and golds, until the heavens were alive with their glittering dance. Beneath them, the crystal basin glowed and glimmered, its mirrored bottom like a second sky.

"Magic," breathed Rose, unable to tear her gaze away.

But the Doctor had eyes only for the woman in his arms. Blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, her skin luminous under the stars. Lower, a glinting caught his eye and he stepped back, holding her at arms length to observe her properly. Rose wore the same dress as earlier, a slim-fitting gown with low (but modest) neckline, fuller, draped skirts, the blue gone black in the dimness.

But the lambent light had uncovered a secret- tiny crystals, embedded in the silky fabric, twinkled in perfect constellations all down her bodice, creeping over the voluminous skirts. His hearts nearly gave out at the sight- his Rose, standing before him, all dressed up in the universe. Ready to become his wife.

As he grappled with the magnitude of it all, Rose smiled at him and broke the silence. "This place is magical," she repeated, shaking her head in wonder. "But I want to know the real reason you brought me here. Then _and_ now. We don't need empathic crystal to show how we feel; that bond we've barely prevented has been evidence enough." Stepping closer, she studied him. "So why, Doctor?"

He scratched at his chin. "The reason we're here now is mostly because I am a sentimental sod."

"I suspected as much." Rose lifted a hand, tracing her fingertips down his jawline. Little electric tingles lit up his skin and mind, and a sound of protest escaped him when she stopped. "This is where I promised to stay with you forever."

He swallowed hard. "Yes. And back then, I...I tried to be so cool about it, tossing that question at you the way I did. But truth is, Rose, by that point, staying hands-off with you was proving much harder than I'd ever thought it would be. And then I remembered this place, and..."

"You wanted to find out if I loved you?"

"Oh, I already knew you did," he said, and shrugged in response to her raised brows. "You practically radiated with it. But I'm a selfish old man, always, and so after awhile knowing wasn't enough. I needed so much more. I wanted to _feel_ your love. To own it. This is going to sound awful, but I was after a commitment, while at the same time avoiding making one."

"You were scared."

He sighed. "And stupid. But if it helps at all, I knew going in that the empathic connection would go both ways." He reached up, toyed with the ends of her hair. "That was part of the appeal. I couldn't say the words then, Rose, but I was desperate for you to know how I felt."

Tears filled her eyes. "I knew."

The Doctor smiled softly. "But back then, I never thought we could get here," he went on. "Have this, for real. I... I want a chance to do it right. To say the words I should've said that day. Make the promises. Because it does need saying. And I'm not avoiding anything anymore."

"I'm ready," said Rose, going on tiptoes to press her lips to his.

For a moment he kissed her back warmly, and then gently pushed her away. "Not like that," he explained. "If we start that again, the bond will simply reinstitute and I don't want that. It isn't _ours_. When I touch your mind and tell you my name, it needs to be on purpose."

"I'm ready," she repeated with enviable calmness, her eyes falling closed as she tipped her face up. Then they cracked open again, as he was in the midst of gathering his wits a little. A quicksilver smile lit her face. "How long are you gonna stay with me?"

"Forever," he said on exhale, all tension melting away as he closed his own eyes and dipped his forehead to hers.

Peace flooded his being as their consciouses merged, along with contentment and security, like coming home. Like being found. A wanderer to the core, he'd never experienced anything quite like it, but then again, he'd never been the recipient of absolute love and acceptance before. Not before her.

This time, the mental scene mirrored the physical one, and the Doctor and Rose standing face to face, starry heavens all around them. There was only one incongruity in the sea of openness and confidence- one dark little corner, hiding a single locked door. The Doctor, knowing it had to do with his double's death, respected her request that he not go there. Rose smiled, hands outstretched, and without hesitation the Doctor clasped them in his own, aflame with the knowledge that from here on out, his palm would never be empty again. That being the "Last of" no longer meant being lonely.

They drew close, his lips grazing her flesh as he spoke veiled syllables into her ear, and the bond stitched them whole without the universe imploding. It had actually happened, his happy ending, yet the Doctor knew it was really just a start. It would not be perfect; there would be trials and misunderstandings and obstacles to overcome. But all he cared was, they'd do it all together.

"I love you," said the Doctor, opening his eyes to behold his wife. She smiled at him, and with his thumb he wiped her tears away.

"'S lovely," she sighed. "You can touch my skin now without thinking twice."

He nodded, bringing his other hand up to frame her face, then bent, touching his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, unhurriedly.

No more cautions, no more restraint; he had looked so forward to this. With a fully-formed bond came absolute freedom, but as the kiss picked up speed, increasing in urgency, he found said freedom nearly as overwhelming as it was exhilarating. He felt untethered, and much as he was enjoying indulging his desires without fear of repercussion, at the same time his gut said one was coming.

And eventually, he was proven right, though it was wasn't so much rebuke as helpful suggestion.

_Better continue this elsewhere. _

"I should have kissed you here, that day," he said softly as they pulled apart. "Just another stupid mistake that I thought I'd never get the chance to rectify."

"I'm sorry you regretted so much for so many years, Doctor." Rose stroked his cheek, drawing him in for another brief kiss. "But good things came from our separation. I know there were certain times in your life when you were thankful I wasn't here, and that life I had with your other self...I can't imagine not having it. Went the long way around, but we're together now, so who's to say it was wrong. I think it was kismet. It's all come out right in the end, yeah?"

"Yeah," he echoed, nuzzling their noses together. "We've finally got our...our happily-ever-after, was it? As far as those go, I've heard marrying the girl you love is a must, so good thing that's out of the way."

"Good thing," said Rose with a laugh, looping her arms around his neck.

"There's another must I've heard about," he went on, and Rose squealed as he abruptly swept her up off her feet to carry her. "Something else we haven't tried quite yet."

"Something else to get out of the way?" joked Rose, cheeky as all get out.

"Oh no, no no no, not this, Rose Tyler. I've waited a very, very long time to marry you, and I intend to savour every bit of the experience."

* * *

And he meant what he said, he really did, just, once they were back aboard his TARDIS, he found that -as usual- even the best of intentions weren't all that easy to carry out.

"You're thinking too much," Rose informed him, turning her face aside so that his mouth slid, latching onto her jaw. "I can tell."

With a long breath, he slowly pulled back. "I'm not...it's nothing. Just..well, it felt like this day would never come, but now it has and, and..." He puffed out his cheeks, a tad embarrassed. "And everything is moving so fast that I can hardly process it."

She giggled, softly, pressing closer. "That's how it's supposed to be."

"It's supposed to be special."

"It _is_ special, but this is hardly a one time only thing. We have forever."

"As if I can wrap my mind around _that_ right now."

"Okay, then." A gleam in her eye, Rose tilted her head, like a predator eying prey, and he gulped. "If that concept seems too big picture for you, how 'bout let's start with something smaller." Her hand slowly lifted, and he was held spellbound in her dark gaze. "We," she began, and his hearts lurched as took hold of one end of his undone bow-tie without breaking eye-contact.

"Have."

Her wrist flicked, and the tie slid from his collar with a silky swish.

"All."

The purple, dotted length fluttered to the floor.

"Night."

When his mouth found hers again an instant later, it was to let Rose know he'd gotten the point.

* * *

**Only three more chapters and an epilogue to go! Thanks again, lovely readers!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Honeymoon. :) This one is a shorter chapter than my usual. Despite my best attempts at succinctness (ha...right) by the time I developed the plot as far as I needed to, it was over 8,000 words, which is really too long. So I cut it in half. I'm sorry, but the good news is that the next chapter is 100% finished, and you will be getting it next week. (And I will happily take advantage of the chance to get a bit ahead on writing 26.) The other good news is that we're nearing the end of this thing!**

**A million thanks to my dear friend YouCleverBoys for the beta. :)**

* * *

Lying on her beach chair, eyes falling closed behind sunglasses, Rose felt the last twinges of tension dissipate from her muscles. The breeze was soft and the sun full, toasting her skin and hair, soaking into her bones.

Sheer bliss, it was. Although everything was bliss lately. They could be in some nasty prison right now and she'd probably feel the same; all polished up, so exquisitely happy. Its sheer intensity scared her at times.

She knew the Doctor felt exactly the same. They were already several days deep into this holiday, and so far there'd been no sign of his typical fidgety, antsy fretfulness, indicating his readiness to move on. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was like they were just settling in, and Rose smiled to herself as she brushed a damp lock of hair off her forehead. He was all glowing contentment lately, and it was lovely to see.

The Doctor had decided their honeymoon destination all on his own -_Earth, Hawaii, Kauai,_ the swirls on the monitor read- a lovely, if rather cliché choice. Would seem a surprisingly human choice, even, to anybody who knew of her alien and all the exotic locales his box gave him access to (although, the fact that he was having a honeymoon at all was probably the bigger surprise). But the Doctor had his reasons. Like pleasing his beach-loving human wife, for one.

Its quiet, garden peacefulness was another. Anything too exotic or exciting would be an unwanted distraction, at least until their insatiable craving for connection eased somewhat. It had taken a good two weeks before either expressed even the slightest interest in venturing beyond the confines of the TARDIS. (Or much beyond the confines of their bedroom, if she was honest.) But that was hardly surprising. After such an endless wait (for the Doctor, especially) and too many half-healed scars (for both of them), once they were well and truly together, married, the only exploring they cared to do for a time was of each other. What wonders of the universe could possibly compete with that?

Happily they'd continued in this fashion until a few mornings ago, when his noisy rummaging around had jolted her awake. Lifting her head from her pillow, Rose had found the Doctor shoulder-deep in the bottom drawer of an ancient armoire, emerging (triumphantly) a minute later with a pair of blue swim trunks in his hand. _Time to heal a few more old wounds,_ was all the explanation he'd give.

Later, the white beach they'd stepped out onto wasn't anything close to cold or windy or desolate, but the look on his face told Rose everything she'd needed to know. Instantly, she tugged him close by the front of his tee-shirt, and then it was this Doctor's turn to be thoroughly kissed on a beach.

Since then, the days had followed a pleasant routine: passionate nights and lazy mornings, then afternoons and evenings were spent on the island, connecting in other ways; hiking, swimming, exploring, shopping. Walking hand in hand in the starlight, leaving long, meandering trails of footprints that were always washed away by next morning.

For two days now snorkeling had been the gerund of choice, and they'd opted to boat out with a group to the best point at Nu'alolo Kai. But today Rose had grown tired quickly, so she left him to it, loving the idea of a nice lay-out. Sighing contentedly, she fingered the fabric of her red bikini top to find it drying nicely, and admired the view, all palms and spectacular towering cliffs. The sun beat down and soothed her, helped her heart slow, let her nerves calm-

"Ah!" yelped Rose, as several heavy, cold drips of what felt like melting ice hit her bare belly in a steady pit-pat. Skittering onto her side, away out of danger, Rose hastily swiped the water from her skin and then scowled up at her husband.

The Doctor had crouched beside her, bedraggled and dripping all over the place, his grin as incorrigible as ever. It was annoying as all get out, or it really should have been, but a smile insisted on forming regardless. Just...god, he was too cute, hovering there all pleased with himself and clearly delighted to tease her, his chest and arms bare, golden brown from the sun. His hair was a both a delight and a scraggly wild nightmare, that deceptively long top thatch showing its true colours, some bits hanging halfway to his chin under the weight of all the water it was holding.

"Can I help you?" she said dryly, lowering her sunglasses so he'd get the full impact of her mock glare.

His expression scrunched into one of deep thought. "No, I think that's my job," he said, giving his soaking head an exaggerated shake. Droplets flew and Rose screeched, which only egged him on. Grasping the sides of her chair, he sank down, closing the distance until she could feel the chill radiating off his wet body. "I'm the Doctor. Here to help."

"Don't you dare," she growled, narrowing her eyes threateningly. "Don't you dare say I look overheated. I only got out of the water twenty minutes ago. Why can't you just let me sunbathe?"

"Hot," he said in a tone of correction, eyes raking over her bikini-clad form. "Not 'overheated'."

Rose snickered in spite of herself. "You're such a pest," she informed him, propping up on elbows to press a kiss to his lips, since he was obviously in dire need of her attention. They were damp, salty from the sea.

"Maybe, but I'm your pest." He kissed her again and stood straight, a sound of disbelief escaping as he turned toward his own lounge chair. "Blimey, somebody's set up camp. What'd you do, Rose, dump the whole bag out?"

"Nah, your towel's still in there," she replied helpfully, and he gave her a look. "What? It's not as if you're gonna use that chair anyway."

"Why wouldn't I?" He pulled a red floral-print beach towel from the bag and began to dry his arms.

"Dunno, I'm just surprised that you're done snorkeling already," she commented, watching him rub the towel over his torso and head. "Thought you might be out there for awhile yet."

He was obsessed, to put it lightly. Coral reefs, and the colourful sea creatures who lived therein, were like a new world to him and therefore automatically fascinating- doubly so, once Rose wheedled him into trying the swim mask. (The snorkel itself was rejected outright, him declaring, offended -not only to her, but to the guide, as well as anyone else in their group who had ears- that "people with respiratory bypass don't need primitive breathing apparatuses!")

Rose had truly pitied that guide. The Doctor, endlessly curious as always, had been relentless with his questions, seemingly intent on cataloging every species he laid eyes on- not only by name, but by scientific description. The poor man, unable to offer the Doctor more than a mere two or three of the latter, had quickly become the object of barely hidden disdain. Out of sympathy for him, Rose had later dragged her Time Lord off to the nearest bookshop, buying him several thick tomes on the local reefs.

So today he got to play educator, and was in his element. Though if truth be told, this had not seemed to make the guide much happier.

The Doctor shrugged, draping his towel over the back of the beach chair. "Figured it would be more fun to spend time with my wife."

There was a slight wistfulness to his words, that almost pained look in his eyes again. Like he was certain she had to be some sort of trick, like he'd dreamed all of this up, and if he dared blink she might blur away. It bothered her enough that normally she'd kiss him, for as long as it took to distract the look away. But Rose was only too aware that if she started that with him now, it would be the end of her chance to just soak up the sun.

"Well, I hope you like sunbathing, because that's what your wife is doing." To punctuate her statement, she assumed the position, flat on her back, eyes closed, arms slightly away from her body.

To her relief, this got a chuckle out of him. She could hear him fussing around over there, no doubt packing her discarded clothing and magazines back into the beach bag. It reminded Rose of the biscuits she'd hidden away at the very bottom, the last of a batch they'd made a couple days ago. She was just about to suggest he dig them out when he spoke.

"Rose? If you're going to lay out for awhile you probably need some suncream."

"I put some on this morning," she reminded him, yawning. "You did my back."

"Right, but you've been swimming since then."

It was waterproof, she almost said, before thinking better of it. Was she really going to turn down what was essentially a free massage? "That's true," she said, rolling to lay on her belly.

His hands were slow and thorough and she was almost asleep by the time he finished, looking up groggily when he nudged her to flip over. He handed her the sunscreen. "I'd happily help with the rest," he said saucily, "but unfortunately, there are children present."

Giggling, she sat up, quickly smearing the cream over her legs and arms, belly and chest, his appreciative eyes on her the entire time. Then Rose capped the bottle and, ignoring the Doctor's outstretched hand, tossed it in the direction of the beach bag. It hit the sand several feet past its mark, and the Doctor turned to her with mock exasperation. "Here I go," he said, voicing his new favourite complaint as he walked over to fetch it. "Picking up after you again."

"You don't mind," she replied serenely, settling back into her lounge chair. It was true. This version of him hardly noticed things lying around out of place, unless he was in a mood to tease her about it. "You think it's adorable."

He paused for a moment before shoving the bottle into their bag. "I wouldn't go that far."

With a winning smile, Rose ran a hand over her rough, damp hair. "By the way, my wedding ring is still in your pocket. You might want to dig it out for me. Hate for any other blokes to come wandering by and think this slob is available."

"Can't have that," he agreed with a laugh, plunging a hand into the left front pocket of his swim shorts. A few seconds later he'd fished out two rings, put on the larger, and then his damp shorts pressed against her thigh as he perched on the edge of her lounge chair. "Mrs. Doctor," he said, slipping the gleaming ring onto her finger.

Rose twisted it around, running her fingertips over the intricate knotted pattern. The Doctor had made their rings himself, delicate strands of coppery alien metal forged into shining replicas of the grass one he'd given her on their engagement. "That your new pet-name for me?"

"Pet-name." He repeated the word with scorn, which was not at all a surprise. _That_ happened when he went and flung himself down on his own lounge chair, folded his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.

After observing him for a minute, Rose shrugged and decided to enjoy the fact that he was being quiet, instead of questioning it. She was just getting comfortable again when all at once her chair was jostled, hard, and her eyes flew open to find the Doctor shoving his chair right up against hers. He lay back down, on his front this time, and after much fidgeting and readjusting, he slung an arm over her belly.

Her fingers went to her lips, helping hold in a laugh. She didn't mind the fact that he couldn't keep his hands off her these days, but this was gonna get too warm fast, or earn her a strange pale stripe across her middle. Still, she couldn't help encouraging him, and he sighed as her fingertips trailed slowly across the curves and dips of his tricep. No chance he'd lay here more than five minutes, anyway.

Although, she thought as her own eyes closed, perhaps he was as worn out as she was.

The night prior had been long, and not in a fun way. Exhausted from all the fresh air and activity, Rose had drifted off while they were watching telly. Hours later she woke in their bed in a panic, her husband's terrible _"I saved you"_ echoing in her ears.

Rose had ceased worrying about that old nightmare, and its return had fear bubbling of her out in the form of anger and accusations.

_"'S dangerous, that you love me so much! You'd do anything for me!"_

The latter he'd agreed with readily enough. And he had also agreed to her subsequent demand- that if they were ever in a truly life or death situation, there were certain lines that were not to be crossed.

"But only," he'd added, "if you agree to the same."

And that was that, battle over and lost. At first it made her angrier, and she retreated to the far side of the bed, defensive with arms wrapped round her knees, lips tight and quivering. But with him sitting there, waves of his love and concern buffeting her, it wasn't long until she gave in, crawling into the safe comfort of his arms.

So much came spilling out after that. How hard it had been being all on her own for those three years, the terrible guilt of breaking her promise, of giving into temptation time and again. Rose talked herself hoarse and he listened with silent sympathy. Later, the Doctor confessed things too. Most notably, a long story of a fun trip gone oh so wrong and a broken fixed point; how close he'd so recently come to repeating that mistake.

It had been so, so painful, but the start of real healing often was.

The Doctor continued quiet, so Rose put the recollection away and dozed off, waking a short time later to the feel of him playing with her hair.

"Mmm." Sleepily, she leaned into his touch, which seemed to be the encouragement he was waiting for. Her eyes hadn't even opened when his mouth fell on hers, firm and warm.

She responded, enjoying the languorous push and pull of the kiss, which soon grew into a proper snog. Her hand came up, applying gentle pressure to his rough jaw until his head tipped and their tongues brushed, and oh _yes_, this angle was far, far better. The Doctor apparently agreed, echoing her hum from several minutes ago, but deeper, more passionate. Too passionate for a public beach, no matter how uncrowded it was.

"Kids around, remember?" she gasped as she broke away, barely thwarting his admirable attempt to reignite the kiss. "So unless you want to go back to the TARDIS..."

As his lids slowly lifted, she could see him process her words. His eyes lit up. "Could we? Looks like the early group is heading in; we can jump in with them. I have a present for you."

Rose stretched, cat-like, feeling very warm and still drowsy. "Hmm, and let me guess. It wouldn't be appropriate to unwrap it out here."

The Doctor frowned a little. "Appropriate? I don't know about that, but it is a fair bit too large to-"

Rose gave a very unladylike snort and he paused to consider her, obviously turning that last sentence over in his mind. Then, with flush-cheeked indignation, exclaimed, "That's not what I meant!"

Covering her mouth, Rose laughed outright and he stared, shaking his head. "Is this how most married couples talk to each other? Seventy-five percent sexual innuendo?"

"Yes," said Rose seriously, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Okay, all right, I'll file that away for future reference. But for now, when I say I have a gift waiting for you on the TARDIS, I mean it in the non-metaphorical sense." He got up and stretched, and then held out a hand. "Been waiting for the right moment, and after our conversation last night...anyway. Come with me?"

* * *

The corridor was long and unfamiliar, and by the time they arrived at an equally unfamiliar door Rose was chilly and goose-pimpled, wishing she'd taken a moment to put on more than just her swim cover-up.

Hand on the knob, the Doctor paused, rattling it as if he were nervous, though Rose couldn't imagine why. She smiled at him, hoping to appear excited, while crossing her arms and trying not to shiver.

He returned the smile and opened the door without a word, leading her into, not the new garden or game room she was expecting, but rather a cluttered, dusty storage area.

After passing several long tables covered with wood crates and curios and old bric-a-brac, they came to a stack of three large cardboard boxes, piled up against a wall. "Here it is," he said, grabbing hold of the top one and setting it carefully at her feet.

Curiosity fully aroused, Rose unfolded the flaps and found the box full of newspaper-wrapped items. She took one out, weighing it in her hands. Heavy, oddly shaped, and as she peeled back the paper the faded pastel skirt of a ceramic girl appeared, instantly recognisable. "Oh," was all she said, a lump rising in her throat as the paper fluttered to the floor. "This was Mum's, long time ago. Always had it on her bedside table..." Rose tore her gaze from it, finding the Doctor's face expectant, yet worried. "Are these all the things you saved from our old flat?"

His eyes widened. "You knew?"

"You gave Mickey one of our old photo albums," she explained, swallowing hard as she bent over the box again and lifted out an old knitted blanket, its pattern alternating waves of green and blue and brown. Sinking to sit on the floor, she brought it up to her face and found the old scent still clung, calling up visions of comfort and home and her mother. Rose's eyes welled.

The Doctor settled beside her, one hand resting on her back. "You all right?"

"Yeah." She sniffed, managing to smile at him. "I'm happy. And...I dunno, overwhelmed, I suppose. How much did you store away?"

"Just what's in these few boxes. The things that seemed...important, I suppose. Framed photos and albums and such, and anything that I suspected had some sort of history to it."

Wiping her eyes, she nodded. "Why?"

He touched his throat, fingers seeking a tie that wasn't there. "Why did I save it at all, when I thought I'd never see you-"

"No, love, I understand that. But why now? What from our conversation last night made you think it time to give this to me?"

The Doctor drew a long breath, tugging the collar of his white short-sleeve button-up. "I just got thinking...all those bad situations, all those mistakes, they happened when each of us was on our own. You and I, we need people. We need each other especially, but...well, Amy could always tell when I'd been alone for too long. And you, Rose..." He paused, eyes searching hers in a way that made her heart stutter then race, made her feet want to run, and all at once she did _not_ want him to answer her question.

"I know you," he went on before she could think of how to stop him. "And you'd've never have crossed those timelines if you'd had someone to go home to. If you had had your mother."

Heart speeding further, Rose gripped fistfuls of the blanket, eyes hitting the floor as she cursed inwardly.

"You lost her before you lost _him_, didn't you?" he went on. "Quite a while before, I'd wager."

Stunned, Rose's eyes shot to his.

"Quite the locked door in your mind, and more behind it than I thought, it seems."

His words stung her, though no reproach tinted them, and his forehead was creased with soft concern. The Doctor stroked her upper arm carefully, sympathetically, and that was all it took- Rose took a shaky breath, nodded in acknowledgement, and then buried her face in his chest.

He cuddled her close, his cotton shirt soft but strange to her skin, his scent mingled up with fresh air and saltwater. She breathed him in, waiting for the questions to start.

But the Doctor surprised her. "I have a confession to make, too. It wasn't your stories that made me suspect the truth, although they did indicate that you might finally be ready to talk about it. But actually, I... I guessed awhile ago."

That made her frown, and she peered up at him. "What? How?"

"Morphic residue. It's faint, but you carry traces of it in your saliva. And the only explanation, my dear, is that you've been through some sort of DNA re-encoding." He cracked a grin. "You and I, we're both a bit older than we look, eh?"

Rose looked away. "That's me, the next Cassandra."

"Rose," he said, chastising. "That's hardly fair. Humans undergoing procedures to reclaim their youth is common even in this time-period. And in future, when anti-aging is readily available to whoever can afford it, _no one_ took it to the lengths that she did." He tilted her chin up. "I'm just wondering why. And the conclusion I've drawn is that he found out his one life was considerably longer than a normal human's, didn't he?"

Nodding, she rubbed her eyes. "We'd been married for ten years before we discovered it. Like his worst fear come true, you know... I mean, you were always so scared of going on alone. So a few years later, when he suggested a possible solution, I decided I'd agree to it when the time came."

Hope sparked to life in his eyes as she spoke, and she knew exactly what he was thinking- that if she'd willingly done so before, she'd do it again, but that was not a discussion they'd be having tonight. "Biologically, I'm early thirties or so," she revealed, redirecting the topic. "And aging a bit more slowly than normal. But thing is, I've had..." She hid her face in the blanket for a moment, hating to admit the rest. "Let's just say I've already had the clock turned back more than once."

For the first time, she'd surprised him. "How old are you, Rose?"

"'S been a long time since I've seen my mum," she said quietly. "But she had a good life, with Pete. A long life. I have a few of her other things, but nothing like this, from back when it was just her and me. As for my age- I'm not sure, exactly. You know how it is, when you don't live linearly...although, he was always quite good at keeping track of our wedding anniversaries." She played with a flap of the box, pressing crescent moon shapes into the cardboard with her thumbnail. "Seventy-two of them we celebrated, don't think we missed any. Which would put me somewhere in my-"

"Nineties," he concluded, awed, skimming a fingertip over her smooth cheek. "And looking good, I might add."

The last part he drawled in an American accent, which made her laugh a little. "Thanks, _Jack_." Oh, he wasn't upset with her, or disgusted or digging for every detail, and utter relief had her feeling buoyant, airy. Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed his lips, hard.

"Blimey, I really hope that wasn't for _him_," he quipped as they parted.

"Course not." Her smile fell a little and she rubbed circles on his bare knee. "But...I'm sorry if I hurt you, leaving you to figure this out, all on your own. But I swear I meant to tell you eventually. It's just...so hard to talk about, an' then when I came back here I purposely picked this year so that Mickey would never suspect, would always assume I was near the same age as him, which made it easy to forget that I _wasn't. _And we've been so happy lately, that I thought I'd wait until-

"Until what? Until we were less happy?" He tsked, shaking his head at her. "Rose. If you're holding out for _that_, you might end up keeping your secrets forever."

Rose smiled tightly, disinclined to tell him she was banking on that.


	25. Chapter 25

**Many thanks to YouCleverBoys for the beta. 3**

* * *

Crisis averted; everything was sunshine again as they sorted through the small treasures left from her old life. Until an hour later, when Rose discovered the blue couch and remembered that bad things usually come in threes.

She had just reached the entrance to the media room -one of their favourite hangouts lately- and the sight of it caused Rose to nearly drop the crate she was carrying.

The Doctor came in. "Oh, brilliant, the TARDIS has gotten into the spirit of things!" he remarked exuberantly, taking the box from Rose and going to set it on the coffee table. "She's given us an upgrade. Didn't go quite as all out as she did for our bedroom, but still..." He shrugged, smiling as he took it in, and then plucked a few framed photos from the crate. "I tell you what, she never changes things around like this just to please me. Begged her for years to update the kitchen from that café theme and did she? No, oh no. Although I guess I don't mind it anymore now that you're back, and..."

Rose tuned him out as he rambled on. He certainly had made a fair point when he claimed that the TARDIS didn't care much for pleasing him, she thought, fiddling with the strap of her cover-up as she took in the all-too-familiar furniture. Aside from the huge, cushy blue sofa, dark-stained bookcases now flanked a new fireplace. Why would the sentient ship-

Her name being called caught her attention. "Your mother had these photos up on her mantel, is that where you want them too? Because we have a mantel now, it seems. And a fireplace. That's cool."

"Yeah, all right," she replied, nail of her pinky finger between her teeth as she watched him arrange, examine, and then rearrange the frames. "Doctor? Do you recognise any of this? In the room, I mean?"

He pursed his lips, scanning around. "Well, of course I do, but that's not unusual. Aside from the fireplace, all she's really done is swapped out the sofa for a larger one -good colour, by the way- and brought a couple of bookcases in. Rather thoughtful of her really, be nice to not have to pop into the library all the time-"

"It's my stuff," she blurted out. "From my old flat- well, ours. Mine and _his."_

The Doctor stilled, taken aback, fingers denting his chin as he looked around again. "Of course it is," he murmured, nodding to the blue couch. "Bit unique, that is. I should've remembered."

"I'm sorry," Rose said, going to him. "I don't know why-"

"Because she loves you," he said, though his smile was weak at the corners. "It's a gift, dear. Quite like what I just gave you, in fact. The TARDIS is thrilled to have you here and she wants you to feel you're at home."

Rose considered this. "But...I don't know if that's how it makes me feel."

He came over to her. "Does this hurt you, then? To be reminded?"

She shook her head, dipping her chin as she peered up at him through her lashes.

"Ah. You think this will hurt _me."_ Rose couldn't help a nose-wrinkle and he chuckled, bending to kiss her forehead. "He was me. Why would I be jealous of my other self?"

Eyebrows arching high, Rose stared him down for a moment before focusing in on his nose, and then spanned its length with her thumb and forefinger. "Yep. Definitely just grew a little bit."

"All right, all right. Why would I be jealous of my other self when I'm the one with you now?" The Doctor tapped his forehead. "Look, all of the men that I used to be are still rattling around up in 'ere, and believe me, big ears and sandshoes are beyond chuffed to know that you still love their daft old faces."

Rose was quiet, not really up to debating this with him again. Finally, she shook her head. "But he's not. I mean, I get what you're saying about your last two selves. I miss the quirks, the faces, the shallow stuff, but in the end I adjust because you didn't actually die, you are still you. But...seventy-two years. For all that time, a lifetime, it wasn't you, he was a different person, and he died. He's gone, forever."

The Doctor grew thoughtful, tented hands against his lips. "'We are the sum total of our experiences,'" he quoted at last. "So, in that way I guess you're right. He isn't me, since I wasn't there for any of it. But you were. So that would make him part of _you."_

Overcome, Rose drew a quick breath. She had never thought of it like that. She'd felt somewhat guilty, knowing she would never be able to let go of him, but perhaps she didn't have to. Perhaps...she shouldn't. "You think that's what the TARDIS is trying to tell me?"

"I think she believes that you need a reminder," he said, and rested his hands on the curve of her waist. "That it's okay- no," he modified, after another look around, "that it's your _job_ to remember that life. And tell me all about it, of course."

Rose was fairly certain she had never loved him more. "Really? You'd want that?"

He began walking her backward, not stopping until the backs of her knees hit the sofa, and Rose gave a tiny shriek as in one smooth maneuver the Doctor grabbed her, taking her with him as he dropped like a stone down onto it, flat on his back. "To hear about Sunday dinners with your family, or what it's like to catch a taxi home at two a.m.?" he asked, rather breathless with her weight fully atop him. "Absolutely. I feel like I totally missed out."

"Okay," said Rose softly, growing serious as she traced the shell of his ear.

His fringe tickled her face as his mouth latched onto her neck, slowly making its way to her throat. Blood heating, Rose sighed and lifted her chin, giving him better access. "And just so we're clear," he murmured against her collarbone, "I don't much care which me used to own this couch, since this me is the one who's on it now." The last part all escaped him in a rush of breath, as he flipped them so he was on top of her. "Well." His green eyes met hers, darkening. "On _you_, on it. To be precise."

Oh yeah, not jealous at all, this one. With a roll of her eyes, Rose plunged her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth to hers.

* * *

"I've changed my mind," called the Doctor to Rose, the instant he emerged from the woods. His pace was quick as he made his way over to where she was waiting at the Smith's fire-pit, their prearranged meeting place for after the time-ships had been left in their respective parking spots. "One measly month together has not been nearly enough time for me to shore up the strength to be away from you for an entire day. And I don't care if that makes me the most pathetic man alive."

In spite of the half grin on his face, Rose knew his words were not entirely in jest. "I hate this too. But I can't just skip out on my friends, especially when they've planned this party for me tonight and everything-"

"I know," he interrupted, joining her on the log bench and pecking her lips. "You need to tell everybody goodbye. And hey, it will give me a chance to go break the news to Clara."

Rose smiled at him, and then sighed as she looked across the wide lawn to the house. "Not looking forward to breaking the news to Martha and Mick, though."

"They're going to miss you," he agreed, springing up and helping Rose to her feet. "But they'll be happy for us. I know it. Besides, it isn't as if they didn't know this was coming; it's just a few days sooner than planned, is all."

"Yeah, you're right," said Rose, nodding as their fingers entwined.

The kitchen was empty as they walked in, but there was tea in the pot and Rose could hear the low murmur of the television in the next room over. Sure enough, as they stepped into the lounge they came upon a dressing-gown clad Martha curled into a corner of the sofa, a steaming morning cuppa in her hands. Charlie, in footed dinosaur-print pajamas, sat cross-legged on the rug, captivated by some children's show with brightly coloured puppets.

"Oh, there you are!" exclaimed Martha, hurriedly clunking her mug down on the coffee table so she could spring up to wrap them each in one of her warm hugs. "Been waiting for my chance to congratulate you two!" She stepped aside, to call up the stairs. "Mick! Rose and the Doctor are back!"

Blinking, Rose shared a brief glance with the Doctor, then absently reached down for Charlie, who had attached himself to her leg. "Congratulate us?" she said to Martha, cuddling her favourite little boy and kissing his soft cheek. "How did you know?"

Martha smiled, though she was looking at Rose funny. "You left us a voicemail, saying you'd made it back safe but not to look for you till morning. Remember?"

"Oh!" Rose laughed a little as she caught on. "Right. You mean congratulate us on closing the rift."

Her friend's smile turned sly. "Yes. _And_ on your marriage."

"But-"

"C'mon," said Martha, giving Rose a pointed once over as she waved her questions away. "It's totally obvious what you've been up to."

Alarmed, Rose set Charlie down and touched her fingers to her neck, searching for a telltale mark as her eyes met the Doctor's. He looked rather lost.

Martha laughed out loud. "Oh, good grief, I'm talking about your _tan_. It's gorgeous. The work of weeks, if I'm not mistaken. Have fun explaining that one today."

"Explaining what?" asked Mickey, jumping down the last two steps and rushing to engulf Rose in a hug.

"How she got a month's worth of tan in one day," replied Martha matter-of-factly.

Mickey gave Rose a sharp once-over, then shook his head at his wife. "Wow, babe, you are good," he said, putting one hand in the air for Martha to slap it. "You totally called it."

Brows drawn, the Doctor's gaze darted back and forth to his friends. "Have I missed something? Because you all seem to be talking in riddles, and I don't like it."

"Nah, it's just that we know you too well," said Martha, patting him. "When Rose's message said that the rift was relocated and she was safe, but not to look for her until next morning, it was pretty simple to work out that your wedding was happening a bit earlier than planned."

The Doctor smiled at Martha. "Clever girl. But, ehm...well." He puffed his cheeks up with air and blew it out. "Sorry we didn't pop in and tell you sooner."

"No, you're not," she replied, chuckling. "But we're fine. And so happy for you."

"Happy for us, too," added Mickey, perching on the arm of the sofa. "Mar and I were getting sick of all that sexual tension."

Rose giggled and the Doctor huffed, crossing his arms as his gaze fixed on the television.

"You're still workin' today?" asked Mickey, grinning when Rose nodded. "Better go get changed, then. Train leaves in twenty minutes."

She rushed off. When she came back upstairs a few minutes later, dressed and gear packed, the Doctor was scowling and red-eared, Mickey looking only too pleased with himself. "Leave him be, Micks," she said reproachfully. "Get your boots on. I'll meet you out front."

After popping into the kitchen to say a quick goodbye to Martha and Charlie, Rose and the Doctor crossed back through the house to exit from the front foyer. On reaching the driveway, the Doctor swung her up in a tight hug. "This is new," he commented, setting her back on her feet. "Look at me. About to say goodbye to the wife as she heads off to her little job."

Rose smirked at him, tapping her foot on the gravel. "Well, get on with it. Let's see what you've got."

Bending forward, he gave her a light peck on the lips. "Have a great day, honey!"

"Sad," Rose scoffed, with an eye-roll. "And here all that Time Lord superiority had me expecting so much better."

The Doctor flashed her a grin and rose to the challenge, bidding her proper farewell with a long, deep, toe-curling kiss that ended only because it was interrupted.

"Oi!" shouted Mickey, his tone rich with indignation. "Just because I know you're 's much a bloke as the rest of us doesn't mean I wanna see it!"

* * *

In spite of Rose's mixed feelings and apprehensions, her last work hours ever tripped by in a rather anti-climactic blur. Before she knew it she'd bid farewell to the shining glass building forever, and found herself celebrating with her closest mates in a cosy little brick-walled pizza parlour.

"And there's another one!" hooted Mickey, as Rose spun the handle expertly, sending another little ball zooming past the painted wooden goalie. "This probably isn't even fun for you anymore," he said, in an aside to Jim and Ethan. "You're never gonna catch up, mates. Sure you don't wanna call it quits, save a bit of dignity?"

"No way," Jim retorted, despite the slump to his broad shoulders. "Though in all fairness, it would have been nice of you to mention this girl's crazy foosball skills before we picked teams."

Mickey rocked back on his heels, smirking.

"Ha, 's Mickey's fault," Rose informed them. "I spent too many hours with 'im down the pub, back in the day. There was a foosball table so a few other girls and I got pretty good at it. Good enough that none of the blokes were too keen to play us, anyway."

"And you kept up the skill for all these years," said Mickey, sliding his goalie back and forth. "Good girl."

"Course I did." Rose nudged him with her hip. "You never know, might help me save the world someday."

"Save the world? With foosball?" Ethan snorted, shaking his blonde head at her. "That settles it, Prentice, your ego definitely needs deflating, and I know just the guy to..." He scouted out the room. "Barclay!" he yelled, on spotting the person he wanted. "Put your stupid phone away and come help us!"

"Leave him be," said Rose too late, cringing a little as Matt looked their way from across the room, a distracted look on his face. He'd been like that, distracted and unavailable, all day. Grateful as she was for this party, a rather large part of Rose was now regretting allowing it. Matt had feelings for her, and here they were, celebrating her departure into a new life, because of her relationship with another man. Of course it was awkward.

"Oh, now she's scared," laughed Jim, as Matt slowly rose, leaving the group of five he'd been sitting with. He arrived with his usual grin in place, though it was slightly wilted, and his eyes were tired. Rose tensed, chewing the inside of a cheek.

"Score's twenty to what? ...five?" he said, craning his neck to view the score at the table's far end. He frowned thoughtfully. "Huh. Whaddya need me for? Good job letting Rose win, dudes. Just like we agreed."

And just like that, the strained atmosphere was gone.

"Oi!" huffed Rose, feigning offense while all the guys laughed. "I could beat any one of you, fair and square. An' that includes you," she added with a purse of her lips, pointing at Matt.

"Hey," he said, putting his hands up, "no threatening the guy who's just trying to be nice. Figured it was my job to make sure you weren't sitting around, crying at your own party, all because you got your butt kicked at foosball."

Another burst of laughter from around the game table, and Rose narrowed her eyes at Matt. "Okay then, if you're so smart-"

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. "Whoops, sorry," he said, one hand up as he turned away. "Gotta take this. I'll be right back."

"I need another beer anyway," announced Jim, rolling his shoulders as Matt walked away. "Who's with me?"

Mickey and Ethan agreed quickly, but Rose shook her head. "Nah, I've had enough for now, gonna hold off till I've had some pizza. You guys go ahead." She held up her mobile, yellow light from the lamp overhead reflecting off the small screen. "Besides, I want to phone the- phone John, see if he's on his way."

She could see the smart remark forming on Mickey's lips, but then the petite form of Martha wedged her way into the small circle. "You boys go play. I want to talk to Rose for a minute."

The three obeyed, laughing amongst themselves, and Rose followed Martha to an empty booth. "Are you okay?" she asked, as Rose got situated across from her. "You look sort of tired...day not go so well?"

"No, it was fine. Patrols were uneventful. I'm just...I don't know. Things feel off, I guess. Like, Matt's being super nice, but...things are weird, and I feel dumb for not realising it would be."

"Because he liked you?"

"Yeah. I mean, it was just a few days ago -well, for him, anyway- that he outright admitted he was jealous. Should I have let him give this party?"

"Hey, it was his choice. He sincerely cares about you, you know, and I'm sure he's just hoping that you'll have fun tonight." Martha prodded Rose's foot with her own. "I was more worried about Kyle."

Rose spared a glance his way. He was still at the pool table, cockily twisting a cue in his hands. "He's fine. Stares, but that's nothing new, and he's pretty much left me alone since I promised to recommend him as my replacement. My bigger problem is that Matt still doesn't know about...you know." She lowered her voice. "Who I married."

"Really? I thought you planned to tell him first thing today."

"I was, but then he looked so, I dunno, betrayed or something, when I told him I wasn't finishing the two weeks, and that this was actually my last day. It didn't feel like the right time."

"Well, then the time is now. And the truth will help him understand," said Martha with conviction. "And then you'll say your goodbyes with things good between you."

Rose nodded, absently pulling a couple of napkins from the metal dispenser. "You're right. I mean, he's gonna be surprised, no doubt. But I won't let this be weird."

Grinning, Martha rested her chin on a hand. "Well, the night might get a_ little_ weird. The Doctor will be around, after all."

With an exaggerated shudder, Rose laughed, her eyes automatically finding the door as if the mere mention of his name might've conjured him up. No such luck though- and blimey, she wanted him. Quite badly, all of a sudden. The vague, empty ache that'd been in her middle all day had solidified, becoming set and stone-like. How had she gone so many hours without his arms around her? Without kissing him?

She became aware of Martha's knowing smile. "Miss him, do you?"

"A bit," she admitted, with a sheepish scrunch of her nose. "But speaking of, is it all right if he and I hang around for some of the weekend? I need to pack all my stuff yet, and I want to spend a little time with you and Mick and Charlie."

Martha looked surprised but pleased. "Course, we'd love that. Sure the Doctor won't mind?"

"He'll be fine," she replied nonchalantly, glancing at her watch. "Gosh, it's almost seven. Hold on a mo', I want to try an' ring him-"

"Sorry to interrupt," said a low voice, and Rose looked up to find Matt at their booth, a troubled Mickey at his side. He motioned for the girls to slide over. "Actually," he said as they sat down, "I'm sorry to have to say any of this. But Mick and I've just been handed missions, kids. We have to go."

"What?" Rose would think it a prank if they didn't look so deadly serious. "What's going on?"

"We really shouldn't be telling you two any details," said Matt, briefly making eye contact with Mickey across the table. "Cause the fact is, neither of you works for UNIT," he went on, eyes shifting away from Rose, "and even at that, only the officers with the highest clearance-"

"They get it," Mickey cut in, putting a hand on the table. "If there's any backlash it's on my head, okay? But like I told you, you'll understand why they need to know in a minute."

Mickey turned his full attention to Rose, and the apology in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. "Don't panic, but it has to do with the Doctor. He's fine," he emphasized quickly, as Rose's hand flew to her throat, "but there might be trouble tonight. Long story short: it sounds like that little fan club of his escaped from UNIT custody in London a few days ago. Don't ask me how. All I was told is that they flew into JFK this morning, and then rented an SUV. We do have a make, model, and license plate, so that's something. Barclay and I've been asked to join the patrols out looking for it."

"They came to New York? But...but why would they do that, if they're after the Doctor? He mostly shows up in London." Rose rubbed her sweaty palms anxiously up and down her thighs, hoping against hope to be told that the group was simply fleeing custody.

Matt gave the answer she was dreading. "Because the Doctor is here again, of all crazy things. UNIT has intel, a source, that says they plan to go after him tonight and that, somehow, they know exactly where they'll be able to find him. No specifics, just that it's somewhere in Manhattan. Oh, and uh, here's another weird twist: apparently they're also intent on snatching one of his old companions." He yanked at his collar. "It all sounds pretty farfetched to me, to be honest. Especially when," he hesitated, darting a glance around, "the companion in question is a girl who actually died over a decade ago. But when HQ calls, I answer. And they're taking this threat seriously because the group did kidnap-"

Rose was vaguely aware that Matt was still speaking, that Martha and Mickey were watching her in concern, but her head was spinning. Shifting, she looked blankly at the thin man sitting beside her, suddenly seeing him as no more than a road block. "I've gotta go," she interrupted, already half-standing. "I've gotta phone 'im. Now."

"Rose," said Martha, reaching over the table to grab her wrist. "Just wait, just hold on a minute, okay?"

"I've already tried phoning the TARDIS," Mickey told her. "And UNIT is on it too; when they rang me a few minutes ago I gave them his current number. Everything is being done. But I can't let you go anywhere until after we talk, okay?"

"This is real, Mick," said Rose earnestly, as if she had to convince him. "The intel is good, all the details are too perfect. I just don't know how..." She paused as it struck her. "We've suspected they had other people inside UNIT working for them from the beginning. Someone must've figured out who I am."

Understanding dawning, Martha scanned the room, and Rose knew exactly who her friend had in mind, who her angry eyes were seeking out- Kyle. But then Matt broke in, hands going up in frustration. "Why do I feel like I'm the one who's suddenly out of the loop?"

Rose closed her eyes for a moment, and then she looked at him. "Blimey, I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, I tried...anyway." She took a deep, pained breath, steeling herself. "Okay, so you know what you just said about the former companion? Well, whoever UNIT's source is, he isn't crazy. She's not dead, Matt." Rose bit her lip, and then blurted it out. "I know, because she's _me_. And I also know that the Doctor is going to be in Manhattan tonight, because he's meeting me here."

Matt's eyes were wary, his posture gone stiff like he didn't quite believe her, but there wasn't time for her to worry over that right now. Rose pressed on. "And by here, I mean _here_," she clarified, in case he hadn't fully grasped her meaning. "He was invited to the party, because he's my husband."


	26. Chapter 26

**Beta-ed by the fantastic YouCleverBoys. **

**Penultimate chapter. Buckle up.**

* * *

"John Smith. Of course." Matt's voice was flat. "It's only his most well-known alias, which he used while at the home of two people that I knew to be former companions of his." A dimple appeared in one cheek as he dug his fingers into his eyes. "God, I must be an idiot, not to have put that together."

Wincing, Rose put a hand out, then decided it best she not touch him. "No, you couldn't have guessed. I should've said something long ago, 'm so sorry-"

"Okay, okay." Mickey leaned in, his elbows thumping on the table. "Save the apologies and self-recriminations, we need to focus. Although Matt makes a good point: there was enough evidence there for him to figure out the truth, and apparently, _somebody_ did. But we're onto him, and he's not getting anywhere near you."

Matt lifted his gaze to Mickey. "You honestly believe that someone we work with is actually _helping_ those weirdos?"

"Yes, and long story short, I say it's Daniels," replied Mickey, shooting the man a quick, daggered look over his shoulder. "Has to be. After all, it's only logical to..."

Rose quit listening, aware only of time being wasted, steadily trickling away like fine sand through her fingers. Rationally, she understood that the Doctor wasn't missing- the agreed-upon time for his arrival was seven, which wasn't for twenty minutes yet, and him not answering his phone was typical. But there was something -_something_\- about this whole thing that made her palms sweat, and Rose couldn't go another minute without hearing that he was okay.

She looked down to her lap, where her mobile was clutched in one hand. One swipe of her thumb and two taps later the small screen read _"Calling D"._

It rang and rang and rang, on and on, until the lack of voicemail greeting made her suspect that the call had not connected. She tried again, and then a third time, becoming so incredibly frustrated that she didn't notice Matt shaking her shoulder until he did it hard enough to hurt.

"C'mon," he said, as Rose turned to him blankly, lowering the phone. The backlit screen caught his eye and he stuck a finger out, pressing _end call_. "You can try that again later. But for now we have to go."

"'Go'?" Her entire being rebelled against the word. "No. He's coming, and I need to be here."

Mickey spoke up, authoritative and trustworthy. "Rose. Those people are coming too, and they're after _you_. The Doctor'll kill me if I don't get you out of here. Now listen, yeah? I'm not going out on the patrol I've been assigned; Mar and I are staying right here. Gonna keep an eye on Kyle, an' if we can't get ahold of the Doctor before he shows up then we'll be waiting to warn him. Having you gone and safe makes all that other stuff simple, cause then when those idiots finally do show their faces they'll get no reward for it but a roomful of UNIT soldiers, yeah?"

He grinned at her, nodding big and slow until she slumped and nodded back. "Good. Now get outta here, you're gonna ride along with Matt while he does his patrol."

Matt was already on his feet, waiting for her. His arms were crossed, partially obscuring the quote on his tee (she could still see parts of "Bears" and "Battlestar Galactica"), but his stiff posture made her nervous, gave him a very soldier-like air in spite of geeky shirts. But then, out of nowhere, he gave her a small, real smile. "I'll buy you a coffee, if you're nice," he offered, with a trace of his old humour. "But I get first dibs the radio station."

* * *

As they walked the Doctor rambled, hardly pausing for breath whilst dodging pedestrians and navigating tricky intersections. Though his story was intriguing enough, Clara devoted more of her attention to his body-language, giving him a long, side-long look as she sipped her Starbucks. The twitchiness was worsening by the second, his hands in constant motion- wringing together, touching his chin, the back of his neck, his bow-tie. Must've realised that _now or never _time was fast approaching, as the block of flats her dad lived in was about to come back into view.

_Out with it, you giant baby, _Clara mentally snapped at him. Could he actually be so ridiculous so as to show up on a weekday afternoon, not even two days after she'd last seen him, take her out for a coffee, and then disappear back into time and space without offering a single reason for the unexpected pop-in?

The twisted filaments of his coppery wedding ring caught the sunlight again, glinting and bright and obvious as a beacon. Clara swallowed and glanced away, hurt rising up again. There was no way he'd forgotten he was wearing the thing. _And_ -it hit her- wasn't it just like him to expect her to notice and mention it, thereby saving him from the discomfort of unveiling the news himself?

She looked down, watching her smart, heeled boots click against the rough pavement. Actually, now that she thought it through, wasn't it even more like him to expect her to notice and _not _mention it? One of his special talents, really, finding ways to cleverly reveal pertinent information while avoiding all the messier bits. The Doctor hated explaining himself; especially hated having to justify his actions. Like why he'd rushed off and gotten married the very minute he'd got rid of her.

Like why he hadn't wanted her there.

They rounded a corner and Clara paused, a spot of blue tucked between two skips catching her eye. "Oh, so that's where you parked the TARDIS," she said, interrupting something about a cyber assassin as she snagged his elbow. "I was wondering why I didn't see it on the way out." Crooking her arm through his, she abruptly changed their course, directing them toward the ship.

"Yes, I couldn't get her to land any closer today, she's in a mood for some reason." He gestured to the left with his thumb. "Your dad's flat is that way, you know."

"Right, but I need to run into the TARDIS for a second. Left my nice warm peacoat onboard, and I can't be sure that I'll see you again before I need it in a month or so."

The Doctor nodded, so Clara didn't know if he was oblivious to her implication of future neglect, or merely ignoring it.

Another snarky comment sat on her lips, but then shame warmed her cheeks as they arrived at the TARDIS. Wasn't she better than this? Better than all of this... passive-aggressiveness? As the ship's door creaked open, Clara brought out her nicest, kindest voice. "Um, so is Rose home? Be lovely to see her."

"No," he replied, waiting for her to precede him onboard. "She's at her job, but thankfully it's her last day-" His green eyes sharpened. "Why would you think she's living here?"

Clara crafted a sweet smile. "Saw your wedding ring, silly."

Bemused, he peered down at his left hand. "Right, I should've realised. Not used to the fact that I'm wearing one yet, I suppose." He met her eyes again, and she saw wariness there. "Are you...surprised?"

"Why would I be?" she said airily, swanning away through the console room. "You two were engaged, so it's not that much of a leap to guess that you'd get married sometime." At that moment, her eyes fell upon actual, visible evidence of his major life-change- Rose's scuffed pair of Converse lay on the floor under a jump-seat, a coat and a yellow striped cardigan of hers slung over the railing. She swallowed, heat filling her chest.

Nope. Whole sharing thing was still not her strong suit.

One step up to the catwalk his voice stopped her. "Right, but. You're not surprised about any of it, then?"

As she turned, Clara tried to tamp down a flare of impatience. She was trying to be a big girl, so why couldn't he just bloody _let_ her? "What do you mean, 'any of it?' That doesn't even make sense."

Wandering around the console, the Doctor idly poked his finger into what looked like the dial of an old rotary phone. It clicked as he spun it. "Well, maybe not to you, but that's because you're human."

Her eyebrows knitted and she forgot all about being nice. "What the h-"

"We're from different planets, yes? We're different species, down to the DNA. Can you imagine how strange my planet's cultures and traditions might seem to you, were you able to visit? Hell, even I found most of it nonsensical."

Noticing her scowl, he smirked and came over, propping his body against the stair railing. "Take marriage, for example. A nearly universal concept, that. But _weddings, _now they're a bit of a different story. Not that the Time Lords didn't have them, but if you believe that they were all love and romance, and music and dancing and cake..." He exhaled a laugh, as if the mental picture amused him greatly. "Now humans...yes, you've got the love bit right, but your problem is that you need to do all this...gathering. Surrounding yourselves with practically every person you've ever known, well, maybe not exes, and-"

Clara gasped a little as she finally found a crumb of meaning in all this gibberish. "Wait. You're saying you didn't want me there because you're worried I might still have a crush on you or something?"

The Doctor blinked. "That's not what I said at all, I thought you were paying attention? I was merely explaining why Rose and I didn't have a wedding- well, we did, but in our own way." He cleared his throat, finger hooking in his collar as he looked away. "It was personal. We didn't invite anyone."

"Oh." Somehow, Clara felt even smaller than she had earlier. "So this whole time you were worried that I'd...you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm just...happy you're happy."

That, at least, was true.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," he said, snatching her into a quick hug. "Good chat. Off with you then. Go find your coat."

She skipped off, nearly made it to the corridor when a few low-spoken words floated up and caught her ear. "...humans," was one. Followed by, more clearly, "So fickle sometimes."

Marching to the railing, Clara glared down at him. "I heard that. Do you mean _me_?"

The Doctor's gaze lifted, his expression unreadable. "Oh, I don't know." He shrugged a shoulder. "Never seen anyone get over a crush quite so fast, is all."

With an indignant huff, Clara spun on her heel. "Oh my god, you need to get over _yourself_," she threw back at him with heat, stomping away.

His laughter followed her all the way down the corridor.

* * *

The TARDIS rumbled unexpectedly. As it stilled, Clara jogged the final leg of corridor to the console room. The Doctor was gone, door hanging open.

She beelined for it, dumping her coat on a captain's chair on her way, and found him waiting for her in some kind of corridor. Unadorned concrete block walls, cold and staunch and bunker-like, the exact definition of nondescript.

Clara recognized it immediately.

"We're beneath the Tower of London. What, did Kate Stewart ring you?" she said, quickly putting pieces together.

He nodded, briefly glancing back at her as he started off at a brisk pace. "Left a message. Must've done while I was out." His voice echoed, and the clack of their footsteps seemed loud in the empty corridor. "They've escaped," he added, his tone dark.

As this place was inextricably tied in Clara's mind to the memory of her abduction, she instantly knew who he meant.

"What? When?" she gasped out, increasing her speed as his strides seemed to lengthen.

"Days ago, apparently. Kate didn't find out until now."

"How could she not know they escaped? Surely the guards-"

"It wasn't a break-out, not in the way you're thinking. They were released. From how Kate made it sound, there was a bloody bookkeeping error or something." He shook his head. "I'm afraid to think of what might have happened if I hadn't popped by to see you today."

They came to a utilitarian lift, "Level 9" marking its wide metal doors. The Doctor unearthed the sonic from inside his coat and aimed it at the keycard reader. It took less than five seconds before the doors clanged dully and began to slide apart, but he was already bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating with nerves.

No, not nerves, Clara surmised, once she was standing in the lift alongside him, the close quarters finally affording her a good look at his face. Annoyance.

Yes, it was sulkiness, not worry, etching fine lines in his forehead and tightening his lips; and she should know, she'd certainly seen it often enough. Magnanimous as he could be, he conversely had precious little patience for being inconvenienced in any way. And here on his face, right now, was the look he usually reserved for evil overlords, or for cups of tea that took too long to steep.

Clara crossed her arms, annoyed that he was annoyed. _Only thing you're afraid of is possibly having to keep me onboard again_, she almost spat but didn't, biting back the bitter words as the doors scraped open, revealing another corridor, identical to the last one.

As they hurried along, she managed to tame the irritation. _Be nice. You wouldn't want a friend tagging along on your honeymoon either. _

The door he stopped at was plain, eggshell white like the walls, with _Lab 2_ stenciled on it in small black letters. It was also unlocked, and made not the smallest squeak of objection to the Doctor's barged entrance. With a sigh Clara followed, blinking in the room's semi-darkness. All the overhead lights were off, the only illumination coming from a lamp on a desk in a far corner. A woman's form was slumped there, in front of a glowing laptop.

"Kate," the Doctor's voice rang out, shattering the quiet and startling even Clara. Though she felt worse for the poor woman who'd had no idea of their presence, watching her chair screech backwards, her hands slipping against the desk. A few sheets of paper fluttered silently to the floor.

Kate ignored the papers. "Doctor!" she said, coming toward them. "How on earth did you get in here?"

"Door was unlocked," he replied, as if it was obvious. Though he no doubt knew as well as Clara did that Kate meant the Tower as a whole, not just her lab.

Kate sighed. "No matter. Hello, Clara. Good to see that you're safe."

The Doctor tapped his foot. "So. A bookkeeping error? Really?"

"Well, that was the initial conclusion, but now..." She flushed a little. "Your timing is good, Doctor; I have news. Mr. Jenkins is back in our custody, after being detained at Heathrow this morning. We not even an hour ago finished questioning him. According to him, their release wasn't an error at all, that it was purposefully done by certain individuals who are current members of our organization. Old associates of Steven Morgan, who are allegedly conspiring with him."

"Certain individuals?"

"Well, specifically, we're checking into the two dozen or so people in our employ who, like Morgan, have ties to old Torchwood One. Most were recruited by UNIT soon after its fall in 2007. Jenkins believes they carry a grudge against you."

The Doctor absorbed this silently. "Did you learn anything else from him?"

"Well." She tucked a lock of chin-length blonde hair behind her ear, looking apologetic and somewhat embarrassed. "He certainly said a lot, but I'm not sure any of it is worth much. I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm nearly positive the man got himself caught on purpose; as he tried to pass through airport security with a handgun in his carry-on luggage. And for the last two hours, he's willingly offered us the most unbelievable information, most certainly designed to send us out on a wild goose chase. Very little of real value. The assumed names the others are traveling under, for example. Of course those are the details he claims he's not privy to."

Blowing out a breath, the Doctor wandered over to a bookcase, inspecting its contents. "What sort of unbelievable information?" he asked, taking a book from the shelf and thumbing through it. "Did he say they flew off for a tropical holiday or something?"

"Oh no, it was far more interesting than that. According to Jenkins, they have a foolproof plan in place to capture you." Kate smiled, a glint in her eyes as she delivered the punchline to this joke. _"Tonight."_

He snorted, shoving the book back into place. "Blimey, bit scared now. Shall I lock the door?"

"Oh, I'd say you're safe enough. Unless you plan to head to New York City."

The Doctor went preternaturally still, his finger still pressed against the spine of a leather-bound volume. Ever so slowly, his gaze panned over, his eyes sharp and strange.

Kate frowned, heels of her pumps tapping as she shifted on her feet. "Is something wrong, Doctor?"

"Jenkins said New York?" In direct contrast to his eyes, the Doctor's voice was calm, normal. "Why would he think I'd be there?"

"Well...it's silly, really." There was relief in Kate's voice but Clara held her breath, already certain that it wouldn't be silly at all. "Although, I will admit that some of it is quite creative. The man says you're in New York quite frequently these days, visiting a...well. A girlfriend. A woman he claims you're romantically involved with," she modified, as if the Doctor might be unfamiliar with the first term's meaning. "They're going with the same old plan, use her to lure you in-"

Kate took a long, uncertain breath, obviously thrown by the ominous darkness that had clouded his face, and tripped the last bit out hastily. "Which we might have taken seriously, if the name he'd given us wasn't of a former companion who died-"

Quicker than a lightning strike, he came toward them and thrust out his hand. "Phone!"

* * *

Clara did feel better after turning a few more lights on, and she returned to Kate's side. The other woman kept close watch on the Time Lord, who continued his erratic pacing at the far side of the room, a mobile to one ear while his free hand churned up his hair. "There were rumours, years ago," Kate murmured, breaking a long silence, and Clara looked at her in surprise. "About that companion. It was before my time here, so I never saw them together myself, but some of our people who did swore that..."

"That what?" prodded Clara, curious to see what exactly she knew.

But Kate shook her head. "Probably best if you don't ask him about it. As you can see, he's very touchy about his past."

The Doctor's voice drifted over, clear and distinct. "Rose," he said into the mobile, body hunched over a stainless steel bench, "I've been trying and trying, and I know you're at work, but there must be something wrong with your phone since this is the first call that's gone through and..."

He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Okay, never mind that, but listen. They've found you, they're in New York, that group of xenophobes who'd abducted Clara. I'll explain it all later, but for now will you please, please get Mickey, have him take you somewhere safe, okay? Don't trust anybody else. Then ring me back and I'll come...no, on second thought, ring me straightaway so I know you're all right."

He paused, dragging a hand down his face, and when he spoke again his voice was soft and tender. "Please be safe. I love you."

"Oh," exhaled Kate, going limp. "Oh my."

Clara took pity on her. "Your intel is good," she explained, touching the older woman's arm. "That's why he's acting this way. Rose Tyler's not dead. She's his wife."

* * *

_Thunk _went Rose's head, hitting the passenger seat headrest. "I give up. All it does is ring." But a second later she was sitting straight again, her eyes on back on her mobile.

"He's okay." Matt's hand fell over hers, preventing redial number seven. "He got a call through."

"Right, and I don't get how I missed it because-" All at once she was thrown forward against the seatbelt, the Jeep screeching to a quick halt.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and nodded toward her window. "There's um, another white Explorer. Can you make out the plate by chance?"

"Yeah," she said, peering out. The numbers and letters were grainy in the dark, but legible. "It's not them."

Foot on the gas, Matt eased them back into motion. "I'm sure...he's probably on the phone with Mickey, is all."

"But I should at least get voicemail-"

"Rose. Take a deep breath, okay? Just...just relax for minute."

She looked over. Matt's gaze was fixed firmly on the windshield, his jaw tense, curls more unruly than usual. He'd thrown his black UNIT-issued jacket on over his tee, and it looked odd paired with jeans.

Rose took an audible breath and slumped back. "You're right," she said, readjusting the strap of her seatbelt. "Don't know why I'm freaking out like this. When I...way back, when we traveled together before, it seemed like somebody was tryin' to kill him every week."

Street lamps and passing headlights illuminated Matt's profile at sporadic intervals. "That doesn't seem right," he said at last.

Rose gave a small smile. "Yeah, well, finding trouble's sort of his specialty."

He glanced over, and did not smile back. "So I hear. And that's all well and fine for him. But, and please correct me if I'm wrong, I also hear he's practically impossible to kill. Whereas people, humans...I mean, what makes it okay for him to expose humans to that lifestyle? To all that danger? We're mortal, you know."

_"You're mortal," _she translated, going by the worry in his tone. Rose rested her head against the seat, gazing at him with understanding. "That's true. But those of us who decide to travel with him, we go in knowing the risks. It's...it's hard to get it, when you haven't seen what's out there, seen how amazing it is. God, my mum felt like you did when she found out what I was up to. She absolutely hated it, was always sure that I was gonna end up dead. But eventually, she realised how good it was for me. It's not just about the traveling, it's about helping whole planets and people an' lots of other things. It's a better way of living life. It's worth the risks."

The Jeep had slowed to a crawl, Matt more intent on her words than actually driving, and Rose felt a long-held weight begin to slip from her shoulders. They were finally talking about this. "And for me, personally, the _Doctor_ is worth the risks," she went on, opening the door for a deeper, more personal discussion. "I belong with him."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "You could travel the Earth your whole life too, and never see all of it," he replied, pointedly ignoring her last statement. "And if I were him, there'd be nothing more important than making sure you were _safe_. Doing what's best for the other, isn't that the right thing to do when you really love someone? Even if it hurts?"

Licking her lips, she looked out the window, at the tall brick buildings and fire escapes. Matt couldn't know, of course. How the Doctor's determination toward that very end hadn't kept her _any_ safer. Had resulted in heartache and regret and a long separation.

"Look. I can tell you think he's being selfish, but he's not. I'm not gonna get upset, cause you don't really know him, or much of anything about our story. But what I will say is that for me, being with the Doctor is the safest-"

"Oh," gasped Matt, and hit the brakes again. They'd been moving so slowly that this time the forward momentum was minor, and Rose looked to see what he was staring at.

Three people, two men and a woman, stood in the middle of the street, not five feet from the front of their vehicle. The woman was blonde, bespectacled, and one of the men was so large and muscular that the second man seemed rail-thin in comparison. He was also the only one of the group not pointing a rifle at them.

"Oh," Rose echoed.

The thin one approached, indicating that Matt ought to roll down his window. Compliance earned him a nod, and then the man glanced back toward his armed compatriots. That was when Rose noticed the scar- a creepy, unbroken white line that began at one temple and ran round his head, circling through his hair.

"Pull over," he demanded in an accent from her old home, confirming the truth for Rose- this was no random robbery. These were criminals from London she was meant to be avoiding, the alien-haters. And this man didn't think much of her either, going by the way his eyes roamed her form, a curious inspection like she was some sort of specimen. It made her skin crawl.

Several long minutes, a few blocks, and a half-dozen flights of stairs later, Rose and Matt found themselves handcuffed, seated together on the dingy, faded duvet of a double bed. The hotel room was awful, smelling like it was coated with the residue of a million cigarettes, and she was careful to avoid taking breaths through her nose. This place was probably on the list of Brooklyn's top ten most cockroach-friendly.

Though if truth be told, it wasn't the worst prison she'd ever been in.

"No," Rose told the scarred one defiantly, not sparing him her best glower.

Matt jabbed her with his elbow, to remind her that these people had guns. "Rose," he muttered. "Just give him your passcode."

"Yes, Rose," the man sing-songed, tossing her mobile in the air. "Not that I need his number; your friend Mickey was kind and stupid enough to provide it to me earlier. But for expediency's sake, it's really best if I ring from your phone. Since not even an alien's too likely to ignore a call from his lover, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes, though his first comment had made her heart skip. So UNIT hadn't called Mick; it had been this lunatic? Somehow, this was a set up?

A tinny rendition of _Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick _burst from her phone's speaker, its upbeat sound raucous in such an atmosphere. Rose clenched her eyes shut. It had to be him. Who but her Time Lord could have such lousy timing?

"Oh, what an accommodating fellow," she heard Scar-head comment, with a delight that made her shiver.

* * *

"Twenty-three hundred hours?" said the Doctor, giving Kate's mobile a shake, squinting at it again before looking over with disbelief in his eyes. "Please tell me that's not right."

"Well," she replied slowly, obviously reluctant to further upset him. "With Jenkins being brought in and everything else, it was bound to get late-"

"But I didn't time travel," he interrupted, staring at Clara almost pleadingly. "Half hour ago it was mid-afternoon, yes? Made a short hop across London."

He was looking for her calm reassurance, or for her to step on his toes and tell him he was being stupid. It was on her tongue- _"stop it, Doctor, it's just a coincidence. It only seems like everything's going wrong, but the truth is that you're a horrible driver."_

But all she could manage was an apologetic look, and hated herself when he looked away. "She won't be at work anymore," he added. "New York is five hours behind...she'll be at that bloody party by now. If she even..."

Letting the thought hang, the Doctor shook himself, eyes a bit wild as they snapped to the door. Clara tensed, half expecting him to dash for it.

Instead, he stilled, his eyes falling shut. Tiny lines appeared between his brows and deepened, concentration becoming frustration. "Must be too far. I can't get a read on her feelings at all."

"Doctor," said Clara, deciding it best not to ask what _that _meant. "You haven't been in New York since this morning, so couldn't you just go back early enough-"

Anger flashed in his eyes. "No, I _can't_. I can't go to warn her earlier, because I _didn't._ At least not until I left that bloody message five minutes ago, like an _idiot."_ The mobile in his hand was glared at, like he blamed it as well, and he drew his arm back, like he meant to hurl the thing against a wall.

Instead, he took a long breath through his nose, regaining control, and before Clara could think he'd shoved the phone into Kate's hands and was out the door.

"I'll keep you posted," said Clara to Kate, the words thrown hastily over her shoulder as she made to chase after him.

The Doctor reappeared in the doorway, radiating urgency. "Kate, think. Someone from UNIT's New York branch knows Rose's true identity. Did Jenkins tell you who it was?"

* * *

The TARDIS rocked, her rotor pulsing too bright and too fast, as if she were as worked up as the Doctor. He was scaring Clara a little- she hadn't seen him this agitated in a long time, though she was consoled to know he was still thinking clearly. His unwillingness to muck with the timelines proved that.

Then again, she re-thought, watching him rush away down the paved, moonlit street, he was currently surrounded by well-spaced houses on wooded lots and somehow concluding _Manhattan._

"Doctor!" she shouted, hating to break it to him. "This isn't the city!"

Her words penetrated and he spun around, just as Clara recognised the gabled house directly across the road from the TARDIS. "Isn't this Martha and Mickey's neighborhood?"

Looking left and then right, he cursed and began to run back, snapping his fingers. But although the TARDIS' top bulb brightened for a moment, there was no telltale creak of the door swinging obediently open. Clara tugged the handle. It was locked.

The Doctor crashed into the door. "Ow," he said, rubbing his jammed shoulder as he looked up with a betrayed expression on his face. "What are you playing at?" The handle was yanked, then he swore again and began rooting through his pocket for a key.

That's when it caught her eye. The badge advert for _St John's Ambulance _had been covered- a sort of sticker, maybe? making it appear as if the TARDIS was wearing a round name-tag.

Proclaiming her to be, of all things, the villain of a rather dark children's story.

_Bad Wolf._

Weird.

Clara opened her mouth as she turned to the Doctor, then shut it on seeing the jut of his jaw, his neck muscles straining as he tried forcing the key to turn in the lock. Not the time.

Except there it was again. That name, stuttered repeatedly over the instruction panel, also lacking the _Big_. A chill crept over her skin as she closed her eyes, gathering a modicum of strength before looking up.

"Bad Wolf," she read out loud, eyes locked on the black and white sign that had always, should always, say _Police Public Call Box._

There was a small, metallic clink. The Doctor had dropped his key, and was gaping wide-eyed at the strange words.

"No," he whispered, stumbling back a step or two.

Oh, that _really_ scared her. "What is it? What's it mean?"

Without answering, he ran away, straight up the Smith's driveway.

"Doctor!" she panted, catching up as he peered through cupped hands into a garage window.

"I need transport...car's gone."

Yet another thing gone wrong in what was now quite the laundry list, but inexplicably, he sounded brighter than he had in hours. He took off again, forcing her to chase him around the house, all the way across the back garden to the small white shed. He hauled the door open, revealed a glowing interior.

"Hello," said the Doctor, laying his hand flat on the front of the tall blue box. _Pull to Open_, read the sign on the left, and Clara sighed in relief as he pushed, the door swinging open easily.

"Rose's TARDIS," he explained, hands in motion as he circled the console. Clara nodded, taking in the strange interior, all grated floor and roundrels and vinyl seats. Support struts branched out at its edges, organic and life-like.

"Doctor. Do you know what this Bad Wolf thing means?"

Slamming down a lever, he didn't look up. "Yes, mostly. It's complicated. Let's just say that in spite of the name, I'm taking it as a very, very good sign."

* * *

Had Clara known what the Doctor was planning, she would have strongly suggested he park the TARDIS _outside _the pizza parlour.

At least then there might've been a smidge of doubt amongst Rose's work friends as to his actual identity, in spite of the purple coat and the bow-tie and the fact that he wasn't trying to play human at all anymore.

"Do any of you lot know where Rose Tyler is?" he asked again, his manner no less intense, though this time he did slow his speech for the gobsmacked crowd.

It didn't seem to help much.

Clara might worry they'd landed in the wrong place, again, but it was definitely a private party. Probably around a dozen people total, most of them grouped around a single long table that'd been cobbled together from smaller ones. The place was small, brick-walled and charming, the air humid and scented with cheese and spices.

The jukebox took a breath, launching into the second refrain of _Across the Universe._ By now everyone had begun to dart glances at each other. A few indulged in long, slow blinks, no doubt trying to absorb the night's strange development- yes, _the Doctor _has crashed our party.

"We know a Rose Prentice," ventured one of them, a young man with intelligent blue eyes and dark stubble.

The Doctor's nose wrinkled. "Yes, that's right, I suppose she's been calling herself that."

The man tugged his ear, darting a quick look over his shoulder to the small group hovering around the pool table. "Um, this is her party, sir."

A huge, exasperated sigh escaped the Time Lord and a fine-boned blonde woman hurried to the rescue. "She might be in the bar area," she suggested in a southern accent, thumbing to a door at their left. "With Mickey Smith and Martha...you're friends with them, right?"

Clara nearly collapsed into a puddle of relieved gratitude when said friends chose that moment to come scurrying in.

"What in the world!" exclaimed Martha, her eyes disapproving as they took in the Police Box. "When did you get here? We've been trying and trying to phone you-"

"Where's Rose?" the Doctor interrupted, hands pulling at each other. All the command in his voice had gone, leaving him sounding young and scared. "Mickey, where is my wife?"

A low murmur rippled through the room as comprehension dawned on a dozen faces. Oh, this was not good. His second slip-up today, and this time, it would do damage. Kate Stewart was one thing, her discretion could be trusted, but now the news would undoubtedly spread through UNIT like wildfire. Clara did not care to be there once he realised.

"She's safe," Mickey assured him. "We heard about the threat, so I got her out of here. She's riding along on patrol with one of our lieutenants."

"Doesn't she have her mobile?"

"Course. Like I said, we've all been trying to ring you."

Chin tucked, he studied Mickey, and then his hand poked into his coat for his screwdriver. Clara couldn't help but be amused at the way all eyes riveted to him as he slowly rotated, shoulders round and arm outstretched, scanning it over every wall and corner. The guys at the front of the table outright grinned, like this was the coolest thing they'd seen in ages.

On reaching the jukebox, the sonic's whirr pitched higher. Pocketing the tool, the Doctor strode over, plucking a small black device with a short antenna from behind the machine. "Hello...here's why no calls were connecting."

"What is it?" asked Mickey.

"A scrambler." The Doctor tossed on the floor. The plastic casing crunched as he stomped it with his heel. "Cheap one, too."

"What's a scrambler do?" an eager voice piped up.

A scowl was turned on the poor soul who'd spoken. "It _scrambles_. Blimey. You people deal with alien tech, surely a little spy stuff isn't beyond your comprehension. And now Martha, I'd like to try your phone."

"We think we know who put it there, Doctor," Martha told him in an undertone, drawing him aside as she handed over her mobile. "There's a mole."

"I know," he replied darkly, holding out the mobile for Martha to tap in her passcode. "Clever enough to not show his face here, I see."

Martha frowned. "No, he's here- look over at the pool table. Recognize anyone?"

"Only that football bloke," he said, after a perfunctory look. "The one with the mouth."

"_Right_," emphasized Martha, like he was being thick.

He went still as a statue, finger hovering over the mobile's touchscreen. "What about the skinny one? Curly hair? The one Jenkins saw on video chat...Clara, what's his name?"

"No way," stated Mickey, before she could answer. "Matt wouldn't."

That was the name, and the Doctor knew it. "Please," he begged, "tell me he's not the lieutenant you... "

Mickey put a hand over his eyes, looking sick, and Martha gave an anguished nod.

* * *

He was never going to listen.

Of that Clara was certain, almost from the moment they'd stepped from the TARDIS. Morgan's eyes were cold steel, so unyielding and full of hatred that even the Doctor's sharpest, best aimed points of logic had no shot at altering the man's twisted ideals.

And his smile, his mocking, _maddening_ smile, made Clara's fists clench until her nails bit into skin.

_Give me a metal death machine any day, _the Doctor'd said on the way over. _Stupid, emotional humans are the worst thing there is. _

As usual, he was right. Morgan was already victor here and he knew it; even if he ended up outgunned and outnumbered. Because when push came to shove, he had nothing to lose. And the Time Lord? Everything.

"Saviour of the British Empire?" the Doctor was saying, his tone respectful, carefully free of sarcasm. "The way I remember it, greed brought Yvonne Hartman alarmingly close to _destroying_ all of reality."

"She started the ghost-shifts, so all those deaths are on her," Rose ground out. "Blaming the Doctor's just _stupid_-"

She broke off with a pained hiss as Morgan angrily tightened his grasp on her upper arm and hauled her up onto her tiptoes, digging his revolver into the thin flesh between her shoulder blades as if reminding her it was there.

"Oi," growled Mickey, taking a single step forward, his own gun trained on the man.

"Don't," said the Doctor, low. From her position behind him, it was hard for Clara to say if he was speaking to Mickey or to Rose's captor. Maybe to Rose herself. She was furious, simmering with scarcely contained rage. Clara worried that before too long some reckless action of hers would be the spark that sent the delicate stand-off up in flames.

There were so many guns.

Silence reigned, and Clara drew a long breath of the stale air. This room looked like it had borne witness to a thousand crimes. Lit only by a single bare bulb overhead, the corners were shadowy and spooky, hiding who knew what, and over the double bed in the far right corner, moldy plaster peeked out from beneath peeling wallpaper.

To the left of the bed, drapes were drawn over a single window, and Morgan stood in front of it, his grip iron-like on the handcuffed Rose. They were flanked by two other goons, the Big Guy and Blonde Girl that Clara recognised from back in London, both of whom were armed with scary automatic rifles. Matt, exposed as the mole, was on the bed, staring resolutely at the threadbare carpet and rubbing his recently un-cuffed wrists. He looked so ashamed that Clara almost felt sorry for him.

If the small digital clock at the bedside was to be believed, only fifteen minutes had passed. Escape seemed hours away, even with the TARDIS emitting warmth at her back, light from its slightly ajar door spilling at her feet. Martha was hidden onboard, waiting for Mickey's signal, a cue to summon back-up. At this point, it was hard to say if the soldiers' possible arrival would be a good thing or very, very bad.

Morgan relaxed his grip on Rose, and her voice instantly rang out again. "This is ridiculous. The Doctor's already promised to get you access to Torchwood One's old bank accounts; there should be more than enough funds for you to rebuild it however you want. Give me one reason why you can't just do it in Hartman's _honour_?"

He laughed. "I'll give you four-hundred and sixty-seven reasons. That's how many of my old colleagues, people who were truly devoted to protecting this planet, lost their lives that day. So you give me one good reason why this alien -who you've so eloquently described as good and kind and _reasonable_\- isn't willing to go back and save even _one_." He gave the Doctor a once-over, disgust in his eyes.

The man on the bed looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "What do you mean, 'one'? What about Lisa, or Rajesh? What about my sister?"

Morgan turned cold eyes on him, his scar clearly visible in profile. "I didn't forget about them, Barclay, I was making a bloody _point_."

"What about you?" asked the Doctor quietly, stalling for time. "Tried to cyberize you, eh? Never seen anyone escape that before."

"The human race needs protection," said Morgan, ignoring the question. "Torchwood will rise, and it needs a strong leader. Yvonne Hartman _deserves_ this, to see her vision for this country realised at last." He took a look at the clock. "Time's up. Now here's what's gonna happen. Monica and I will accompany the alien to 2007. We return here within one hour, all necessary individuals alive and accounted for, and then old Anderson here won't kill the girl." His lips twisted. "Your _wife_."

Breaths uneven, fidgety hands, the Doctor's careful veneer of calm was rapidly melting away. Clara's heart pounded.

"But...okay, thing is, you don't understand. Please, let me explain it again." The Doctor's eyes locked on Rose, and Clara knew he was wholly unwilling to let her out of his sight. No way would he leave her alone with that cold-eyed man and his gun, when it was ever so clear that Morgan was _not_ bluffing. "Like I told you, it's not that I don't want to save those people, it's that I literally _can't_. A person's death is a fixed point, _fixed_, in that it cannot be changed. I swear I'll help you in any other way, afterward I'll surrender myself to your custody just as you like, but you can't ask me to change established events. I can't rescue someone who's already died."

Morgan's gaze was distant and calculating. "I don't believe you."

The Doctor closed his eyes.

"Why would I?" Morgan continued, smooth as silk. "You're powerful and clever and dangerous, and it's high time somebody stopped you. Time someone showed the world what you really are. Abruptly he gave Rose a shove, so that she stumbled forward. "There's nothing you can do to save people's lost loved ones, you say?"

With clear eyes and a steady hand, he raised his gun. "Then prove it."

Everything after that was muddled, like drowning in murky water, all adrenaline and noise and frantic motion, snatches of light and air. Clara's ears rang, her nostrils burning with the acrid scent of gunpowder, temporarily deaf and blind to the chaos circling all around her. All she could see was the Doctor.

He was knelt at the eye of the storm, gathering Rose into his arms, her brown eyes wide and shocked on his. A horrible red stained the front of her soft blue cardigan.

As Rose's lids fluttered closed his chest heaved. "Rose," he gasped, voice strangled, as he pressed the heel of his hand to the wound. "Rose, love, please hang on, okay? Open your eyes, baby. Hey, hey, honey, please. Rose..."

Martha appeared, her face wet but urgent as she crouched beside him, speaking, rapidly working Rose's buttons, and then Clara could not see or hear either of them anymore, as shouting, thundering soldiers swarmed everywhere.

A gentle hand took Clara's, and through a blur of tears she looked up at Mickey. But before he could speak a shout rang out, piercing through the clamor.

_"Do it!"_

Everyone quieted, their attention drawn to the obnoxious man. Morgan looked a bit worse for wear, his nose bloody, upper lip split and swollen, pinned belly-down to the floor by Barclay.

"Do it!" he roared again. "Go back in time and save her!"

The Doctor got to his feet, Rose in his arms. He stared at the man with eyes like burnt-out stars, cold and black and lifeless. Morgan's triumphant sneer wilted away, colour wicking from his cheeks.

"This is the part where," the Doctor drawled, "were I any other man, I'd swear that if she dies, I'll make you wish you had never been born." His gaze hardened. "But as you so often reminded me tonight, I'm not just any man. I'm a Time Lord. I'll simply make sure you won't be."

Turning on his heel, he strode away, carrying his precious burden into the TARDIS.

* * *

The medbay was big and brilliant, full of super-advanced tech. Surely there was no illness or injury that could best it, or so Clara told herself. But the great, big, wrenching knot in her gut only grew. They were too foreboding, those little beads of perspiration on the Doctor's forehead, popping out as he tried to insert an IV line into Rose's forearm.

Even worse was Martha's quiet despair. She smoothed a hand over Rose's hair, occasionally checking her pulse at her throat.

Clara stood back with Mickey, out of the way, and gripped his hand tighter.

"For god's sake, _do_ something, Martha!" the Doctor exploded out of nowhere, making all of them jump. "Set up the bloody heart-rate monitor or something!"

Martha bit her lip, clearly reluctant. "Doctor...maybe it's best if you-"

He made a small sound of triumph, having finally got the line in.

"Doctor." Martha tried again. "Come hold her hand, yeah? Here, let me start the drip."

He shot her a quick, fierce glare. "Stop it."

Tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn't back off. "I'm sorry, but Doctor, you must know...all that internal hemorrhaging..."

His nostrils flared, face contorting in pain as his glass bubble of denial finally shattered. "So," he told the floor. "Back to Plan A, then." His eyes, full of a new, scary resolve, found the door.

Clara read his mind.

Without a second thought, she blocked the exit. "You can't."

Her heart thrummed at his predator-like approach, a sense of disbelief clouding her senses. _Had_ it really been only a couple of hours since they'd walked together, sun on their shoulders, while she struggled with petty jealousy? Now, she'd give anything, _anything_, for him to keep his Rose...though risking all of reality was where she drew the line. "You know you can't save her by carrying out that...that threat. It's wrong."

_Wasn't it? Why, on saying it, did she suddenly feel like a gun was trained on him now, her own itchy finger on the trigger? _

His laugh told her he was already lost. Already the second casualty of the day.

As he made to push past her, Clara sent Mickey a silent plea for help. In a rush Mickey grabbed his arm, and like a striking snake, the Doctor hauled off and punched his friend in the jaw.

Then he was gone.

"Would Rose want you to do this?!" she shouted down the corridor after him, a last-ditch plea. "_Would she?"_

Amazingly, his footsteps faltered.

"You won't be the Doctor anymore, if you do," she pressed. "You know that. Would Rose want you to sell your soul in order to save her?"

His head hung, and it was a hollow victory.

Soft words squeezed past the huge boulder in her throat. "This isn't fair, of course. It's horribly, horribly wrong. God, if anyone deserves to have their dream come true, to have a life of...of perfect endless bliss, it's you two, but-"

A crackle of electricity lit the air as his head snapped up. He whipped to face her, and she caught a glimpse of something- something like hope, gleaming in his eyes as he raced back into the medbay.

"What are you doing?" she rasped out, watching him climb onto the small mattress, settling beside his pale wife.

His eyelids fell, his fingers lodged at Rose's temples. "Promising her a happy ever after," he murmured, and kissed her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Last real chapter, everyone. :) HUGE thanks to my dear YouCleverBoys for the beta on this beast. And thanks to all of you for reading! I can't believe this journey is nearly over. *sniff* **

* * *

That song was playing again.

She hated it, loved it..._knew_ it. Strange, that. It was an ephemeral snippet of magic, a flash of light off fairy's wings. It should never be familiar.

Golden sunlight breached the darkness, drying up the sparkling notes like dew on grass. Stretching her sleepy limbs, Rose blinked, slow and soft, until a pair of warm, greenish eyes swam into view.

Oh, she knew those eyes, that floppy hair, that chin. That smile. It was brighter than the sun had been, easily coaxed out her own smile.

Until he spoke. Breathed out three terrible words on a half sort of laugh, all relief and jubilant triumph.

"I saved you."

As if sucker-punched, Rose gasped, floaty blissfulness gone in an instant. Head rolling on the pillow, her gaze darted frantically about, finding truth everywhere. No sunshine, only the cold sterile light of the medbay, and it was the Doctor's body that warmed her, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he hovered over her on his elbows. Fear clenched her heart in its fist as she met his eyes again. "No. No. What did you _do_?"

Her body told her before he could. Chest contracting, Rose turned her head again, and exhaled a cloud of shimmering gold.

Watching it dissipate, Rose abandoned the need to pinch herself. The nightmare never got this far. "That's regeneration energy," she stated dully. "_Your_ regeneration energy."

"Yes." He peered down at her, the look in his eyes a strange mix of elation and uncertainty. "I couldn't lose you."

There was a tremor in his voice that gave her a glimpse of what he'd just been through, and any reproach died on her tongue. This wasn't his fault. The blame, as always, rested solely on her.

"I love you," he choked out, and then she was buried in him, her nose in the crook of his neck as he clung to her. Rose pressed her lips there, assuring without words that she loved him too, of course she did, even when he was unwittingly bringing her bad dreams to life. His breath was hot on her scalp, as he laid kiss after kiss upon her hair.

At length his arms loosened, and he slid onto his side, head sinking in the pillow as he faced her, nose to nose. "Don't be scared, Rose, it's fine," came his soft voice, as the Doctor touched his forehead to hers. "It's brilliant, even."

_"Nothing will ever hurt you again," _her mind filled in for him, the last line from her dream, and even though he didn't actually say it it was enough to crack the dam. Rose heaved a long, shaky breath, released it as a sob. His arms ensconced her, and he stroked her back as she cried.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, once she began to calm. "But we'll work through it, hey, just like we did before. I didn't mean for this to happen, not sure why it did, but I..." He sighed. "Even if I'd known, I would've done it anyway. I can't lose you."

Thoughts muddy, head throbbing, his words didn't quite make sense. One thing, though, she was sure of. "It wasn't your fault, Doctor," she said, her eyes on the dark wet patch she'd left on his shirt. "It was all me, it was the Wolf. I fooled myself, let myself believe that her plan was always to keep you safe, but...deep down, I still knew she wanted this..."

"Hey now, don't start talking that way. Bad Wolf is _you_, which means I _trust_ her decisions. I'm sorry, Rose, so sorry to put you through this trauma again, but love, it was worth it. You're still here." His hand traced her cheek, his lips met her brow. "We still get our forever."

Rose's heart was heavy, like a stone in her chest. It would be so easy to say nothing, to allow him to keep his beautiful fantasies. "You don't understand." She fell onto her back, unwilling to watch as she snuffed the life from something sweet and innocent. "She's given _me _forever. By stealing it from you."

Indignation broadcast loud and clear over their bond, surprising her to silence. "I sacrificed my last life for _Donna's grandfather_, Rose. How can you think it wrong that I do the same for my own wife?"

Confused, Rose glanced at him. The Doctor had sat up, and he glared at her from under a mop of mussed hair, his chin jutting like it always did when he was taking a firm stand on some issue. "I won't apologise for doing whatever I had to to save you," he repeated. "However," he went on, vulnerability creeping into his tone, "I am sorry that I changed on you again, which I know is far from an ideal outcome. Though while we're on the subject, I might add that it is also a wildly _improbable_ outcome, because once one gives away enough of their regenerative energy-"

Little stars burst in her vision as Rose scrambled to sit up. "Wait a mo, you think you regenerated?"

Complete silence for a moment while he stared at her, running his fingertips slowly over the curves and slopes of his face. When he got to his chin, the Doctor went totally still. "Didn't I?"

Brows raised, she gave her head a slow shake.

His worry lines slowly smoothed out, eyes lighting up till he looked like a hopeful little boy. "I'm...I'm still me? Really?"

Rose managed a smile. "You're still you."

"But that's- that's brilliant. So why are we upset, again? You're safe and I'm me, and everything...it's all brill-" He cut off as he spasmed, coughing out a golden cloud of his own. Both stared as it swirled off over a coral strut, and then their astonished eyes met.

"Okay, it's brilliant and weird," the Doctor modified. "That shouldn't be happening, and I don't understand why I feel like I...but." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose this _is_ mostly uncharted territory. Bound to be side-effects."

"'Mostly'- what, you know others who've done this? Shared their regeneration energy with someone?"

"I know of one person," replied the Doctor distractedly, one fingertip sliding down forehead and nose as if he was not yet quite convinced he was the same.

"So that's why you thought to try it?"

His finger moved from his nose to tap hers, and he smiled. "No, not at all. Funnily enough, it was Clara who put the idea in my head-" All at once he paused, taking in the room. "Huh. She was in here, before. She and Martha and Mickey. Must've decided to give us some privacy."

Taking hold of his jaw, Rose tugged his gaze back to hers. "Doctor. What did she say?"

His eyes glinted, corners of his mouth quirking up. "Oh, she was shouting at me, something about 'a life of endless bliss'. Called to mind the lyrics of a song from that film we watched."

In spite of everything, she couldn't help a tiny, real smile at that. "What, _Enchanted?"_

"Yeah." Pleased with her reaction, he nuzzled his nose against hers. "And then I knew how I could save you." He drew back, eyes dark. "With true love's kiss."

His brows lifted in delight, paired with a grin to form his patented _aren't I clever _face, and Rose had to laugh a little. "What, now you reckon you're Prince Charming?"

"Oh, have been since way back," he retorted, smugly. "Saved you with it _twice_ now, not that my ninth self would ever call it that, the stroppy old bugger. But anyway, according to the song, true love's kiss brings happy ever after- well, the real lyrics go something like _'it brings ever-after-ing so happy', _but I didn't want to say it like that, bit gag-worthy-"

Cold dread struck her again. Happy-ever-after was fiction, and he still didn't _know_. "I'm upset because you're stuck in this form," stated Rose quietly, cutting him off. "Yeah? You can't regenerate anymore. Ever."

He met her eyes squarely. "So? I could go on for a long time yet; it was hardly a sacrifice, Rose. Being as the alternative was watching you _die. _You'd've done the same, if you could."

Rose bunched her lips up; he had her there. "But it's always you giving and me taking, and never the other way around."

"Oi, you've given me so much, and since when does love keep score? Besides, even if this hadn't happened, I never intended to go on..." He shook his head. "Our lifespans _match _now."

Rose flinched as those four words, spoken in a different, lighter voice, echoed through her mind. He'd been wrong about it, back then.

He was just as wrong now.

But how to prove...? Looking down, she caught sight of an IV needle lodged in the crook of her arm, the flesh surrounding it purplish and sore. Biting her lip, she ripped the tape away, then yanked the needle out.

Blood welled. The Doctor grabbed for her with a sound of disapproval, but Rose twisted away, not allowing him to apply pressure. A moment later she stretched her arm straight out, steeled herself, and then wiped the long line of blood away with the hem of her torn jumper.

All the bruising had gone, her skin was unmarred by even the slightest pinprick. On seeing it so the Doctor inhaled sharply, and touched a fingertip to the spot. "Oh," he murmured. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Rose closed her eyes, hot tears slipping past her lashes. "But it _was, _Doctor, that's the problem. Bad Wolf got what she wanted. You've given me your immortality."

* * *

Silently, he ran his thumb across the crook of her arm, back and forth, as he tried to work out how to handle this. At the moment, his own reaction to all this puzzled him more than anything. Rose was expecting shock, disbelief and questions, but he wasn't doubting her, or even that this was Bad Wolf's doing. Somehow, it all just fit. There was even a scientific explanation, and he had it. Or, he would have, once his mind stopped being such a jumble.

Rose believed she'd stolen from him, which was utterly ridiculous. Did she not realise how he loved her, how nothing could diminish the joy which filled him to the brim because he'd _saved her_, she was _here_. That fact alone had fireworks blasting off inside his mind.

Although, he admitted, eyes briefly falling shut to background starbursts of light and colour, those might be from a small neural implosion.

Rose sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Say something."

The Doctor shifted them, leaning back against the pillows with her head on his chest. "Well, immortal's a strong term, wouldn't you say? Even I was never _that_. All I saw you do was a bit of hyper-regenerative healing."

She sniffed again, fiddling with one of his shirt buttons. "Surprised you aren't doing a million tests already."

"While you're all upset?" He feigned offense. "Oi, I think I deserve a bit more credit."

"Don't try'n tell me you aren't close to exploding with curiosity."

"Sure, but no test in the universe will answer the question that has me most baffled." Cuddling her closer, he kissed her temple. "Namely, why are you dragging us down the 'Bad Wolf is selfish' road again when we've known for ages that it's rubbish?"

"Doesn't the evidence speak for itself? You're mortal and I'm...mostly not. I took it from you, and, and worse, this is exactly what I suspected might happen."

"How could you possibly have foreseen this? It shouldn't even be possible, because a Time Lord's body doesn't carry nearly enough uncoded self-replicating biogenic molecules to accomplish instant cellular repair for _itself_, and its power would be even less potent once transferred to some...oh."

He broke off, as the answer broke through his cloudy mind like a spotlight. "But it could happen if a person was overdosed. If your body was the biological receptacle for the regenerative energy of _two_ Time Lords."

Rose sat up, twisting to look at him, her eyes full of surprise.

"Of course he did," he went on, all the pieces falling into place. "He may not have had the energy stores to pull off a full regeneration, being part-human and all, but that doesn't mean he didn't have _some_. What better use for it than to share with one's wife now and again, to even up the lifespans? To save her life, if need be?"

Her mouth quivered as she looked down at herself, fisted shut her gaping, bloodied jumper. "How is it fair, when he dies and I live? And now, I've essentially killed you too."

At the end of the bed sat a crumpled pile of blanket and the Doctor reached for it, draping it over Rose's shoulders. "Dunno, I feel pretty healthy."

Her eyes snapped to his, flashing. "That's not funny. You're a Time Lord, the last one, and once again you're down to one life and it's all because of me."

"Rose, not to sound like a broken record, I'm here and you're here. I fail to see why that is so bad."

She dipped her head, tugged a fold of the blanket to her mouth. "It's bad because I saw it coming. Because I didn't stop it, and because I was a fool to think that I could."

He made a sound like an objection.

"Just listen," she snapped. "You need to hear this. Ever since I tasted immortality as Bad Wolf, deep down I think I've always craved it. I mean, when we were first traveling together I didn't worry, it seemed like a natural desire, just me wishing for a way to truly stay with you forever. An' that's how I justified it later too, when I let him give me all those extra years of life in Pete's World."

Agitated, she shook her hair out of her eyes. "It wasn't until I found myself heading back here, where you might find me, that it hit me how _possible_ immortality was. One little accident, plus the seed of an idea in your head..." Rose's hands shook as they clutched the blanket. "I was utterly determined that it would never happen. How stupid am I, to think I could stop it?"

He drew her close, sighing inwardly. How like him she'd become. Both of them misguided fools, denying themselves happiness by trying to protect the other. By keeping secrets and never properly talking. Well, that was about to change. Communication's greatest advocate, he was gonna be.

"This is why you held me at arm's length for so long," he said softly. "Why you would never tell me what happened to him."

"My mortality has always terrified you. If you'd known the whole story, do you think you'd have been able to resist the temptation to finish what he started? Even if it never came down to a life or death situation?"

"What is the whole story, Rose?"

She pulled away, leaning forward. "It didn't happen during some heroic, glorious rescue, if that's what you're thinking." Her voice went quiet. "It was a stupid accident. We were visiting a small moon, an' there was unrest between two neighboring tribes because of a disagreement over water. Didn't take the Doctor long and he had a clever solution, a way for both to benefit equally, and when we met with the leaders they agreed to abide, and to keep peace. Problem was, they showed up armed."

The Doctor tensed, sick to his stomach as her words conjured up clear images. It was all he could do not to stop her there. Rassilon, he hated guns.

"One man lost hold of his blaster, and it hit the floor and went off." Opening the blanket, Rose touched her bare skin, just to the right of her heart. "Hit me here. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the TARDIS, and he was smiling, said he'd saved me, and then-" Choking, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

"Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry," he whispered, blinking back his own tears. "That must've been terrible, love."

Rose nodded, swallowing hard to regain her composure. "I went to see Tony, my brother, afterwards. He was a retired doctor, had worked for Torchwood for years, and he knew all about what the Doctor had done previously to keep me from aging. But this time I just felt...odd, so I had him run tests and he said my rate of cellular repair was like nothing he'd ever seen. And then he said, and I'll never forget this, he said, 'blimey, Rose, if he gives you much more of that stuff you might live practically forever.' I went back to the TARDIS, all alone, thinking of my promise to return to you. That's when I first suspected what Bad Wolf had planned. And that was that; I decided not to come back here."

The Doctor sighed again; if only he'd known all this ages ago. Tilting her face up, he met her glassy, despondent eyes, touched his mouth to hers in what he meant to be a comforting kiss.

Pulling away nearly killed him. The single touch had ignited some fuse, set his blood on fire, had his damaged synapses sparking like mad. Oh, he was having a craving. Again. Not for anything savory-sweet or tannin-infused, but for those soft, honeyed lips. Only inches away, full and slightly parted, they practically begged for him to partake. To reaffirm, in the basest way, that they were both alive and here.

"Doctor?" The corners of her tempting mouth pulled down, and he swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with effort.

"Okay, you're right, Bad Wolf got what she was after. So all I want to know is, why aren't you happy about it?"

"What?"

"Bad Wolf's plan is your plan. What you, Rose Tyler, truly want. How do you feel now that you've got it? You like the idea of spending eternity alone?"

An angry little gasp, and he averted his eyes from her pink-cheeked, outraged gorgeousness. "Rose, why would you do all this, orchestrate all these events, move time and space, to give yourself a reward that you _hate_? If I was ever a goddess, cherry-picking my own future, you know what I'd do? I'd give us a full, long life together. And when it all ended, neither would be forced to go on without the other."

Rose snorted softly. "You say that every time we watch _The Notebook._"

"Yes, that's right, and every time I'd hold my breath and hope for you to agree with me. But of course you wouldn't, my stubborn girl, because you were scared I'd take it as permission to...not go on, once I'd lost you. Which _is_ what I was asking for, sort of," he added quickly. "But now that our roles have reversed...maybe you'll be more openminded." He swallowed, then stated his desire bluntly. "I want a soul-bond, Rose."

"A what?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "A soul-bond. See, the link you had with him -and now with me- is much shallower than it could be. It's a permanent binding of minds, yes, but we're missing the bridge, which would allow us to communicate without the necessity of touch."

Hurt washed across her face, and he rushed to soothe her. "I know you're wondering why he never asked, but it was because he couldn't. He knew you had to go on without him. And this- well, it would have prevented that. It intertwines so much more than thoughts and emotions, love, it would tie our very beings. Meaning that we literally could not live without one another."

Eyes unreadable, Rose gazed at him for so long that he nearly succumbed to the temptation to touch her and peek at her thoughts. "So if we do this," she said at last, "I'll only live as long as you, even if it's just a few more decades? We can spend the rest of our lives together no matter what?"

He nodded. "I've been wanting to bring this up since the wedding, but from all indications you weren't in any sort of mind to ever agree to it. I knew you'd see it as too big a sacrifice, but I wasn't going to give up." He took her face in his hands. "Do you get it, Rose? Do you see? Our forever is right here, hanging right in front of us, all we have to do is reach out and take it. But if the metacrisis hadn't happened, or our separation, or the rest of it, this would've never been possible. _This_ is Bad Wolf's plan, love. All along, she's been leading us _here_."

It was beautiful to see, the way his wife slowly blossomed as the truth sank in, her guilt and self-loathing falling away like old, broken shackles. The Doctor felt like a hero all over again.

Then Rose's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my god. If I'd only told you the truth, way back...we could've planned this. Instead, I put you through-"

"Shhh, now, that doesn't matter. We're together, and nothing can harm you, and this bond- Rose, you've given us so many gifts. And I'll be safer than ever, because now, my hearts are protected."

Rose leaned in, her breath drifting across his lips. "You sweet, sweet, cheesy romantic."

The Doctor captured her mouth, and the heat in her response, the hints of pure, sweet joy, had him instantly addicted. All he wanted now was this, his Rose, to taste and feel and breathe her, and he wasn't so sure he could ever get enough.

_Far _too soon a throat cleared loudly, startling them apart. Panting, fingers still threaded through her hair, the Doctor turned his head, eyes slitting open to bestow a death-glare on the source of the interruption.

"Sorry," said Mickey, hovering just inside the doorway with Martha and Clara. "But um, we have UNIT soldiers waiting outside for an update. Just wondering what you want me to tell them."

The Doctor sighed, sliding his hands down Rose's arms. "I don't care. Just that they'd best find and clear out anyone associated with that Morgan, if they want to stay on my good side."

"Has Matt been arrested too?" Rose asked, mouth tight.

"I haven't been out there, but I'm guessing so. Thing is, Rose- well, I don't mean to downplay his betrayal, obviously he played a huge part in you being hurt, but at the end...if he hadn't jumped on that scarred-up wanker the second he pointed the gun, you probably wouldn't have made it."

"He tried to save me? Really?"

"Yeah. Not that it makes up for what he did, not at all, just thought you should know-"

As Mickey continued to speak, the Doctor's eyes clenched shut, the nightmarish past hour returning to swallow him whole. The flash of black metal, the smirk, were scarred into his mind's eye, and though Rose's body was warm and alive in his arms all he could feel was the heavy limpness of her. All he could smell was her blood.

For a tick he was helpless, caught in its undertow, but then the current changed, lifting him up in a furious wave of fire and ice and power and rage. Defenseless? He was never. He was the Storm, he was the Destroyer. And he was vowing that before this day was out, there'd be new whispered words about him, spreading like wildfire through seediest spots of the universe.

_He is Her Protector. And more dangerous than ever._

Rose's touch brought him back, her fingers cooling his red cheeks. "Hey, you alright?"

Forcing the last of his anger away, he sucked in a deep breath and nodded.

"Anyway, Boss," Mickey said carefully, "If it's all right with you, I'll pop out and give the team an update so they can leave. Mar and I can hitch a ride with them."

"No, no." Releasing Rose with utmost reluctance, he got off the bed. "I'll take you home. I need to get Clara home anyway. Also, ehm." His eyes hit the ground and he tugged his ear before looking at Mickey again. "Sorry I hit you."

"What?" came Rose's startled voice at his back, but Mickey just grinned, and put a hand up to quiet her.

"No worries, mate. I've had far worse."

The Doctor blinked, not quite sure how he should take that.

"We'll stop in soon," Rose promised Martha, awkwardly reaching an arm out from the blanket to hug her friend. "Give that baby boy kisses for me, yeah?"

"Yeah. God, Rose, I just can't believe..." Martha wiped her eyes. "You're really okay?"

Rose and the Doctor shared a smile. "I'm really okay."

Another quick hug, then Martha turned to the Doctor. "Well, make sure she rests now, Mister. _Properly_. And you too. You look like you need it."

The Doctor saluted her and went to Clara, who had been standing, arms crossed, a bit awkwardly off to the side. He hugged her tight. "Thank you," he said, mouth near her ear. "For stopping me. You are amazing, Clara Oswald."

Her large eyes shone, wet and bright. "Guess I learned from the best."

Before too long the TARDIS' door was closing for a second time, and the two of them found themselves properly alone for the first time in what felt like years. The Doctor could hardly give the controls the scant attention needed to get them back into the vortex. Not when his wife was so close, so beautiful and so alive. All curled up on one of the captain's chairs, still wrapped in a blanket from the infirmary, Rose flashed him a sunny, tongue-tipped smile when she caught him looking.

Before the Rotor finished its first good pulse he was over there, scooping her up, sinking into the seat with her on his lap and kissing away her startled laughter.

It was like welcome rain, the longed-for intimacy saturating his parched, torn mind. Blissfully he delved further, eager to relearn her, and the slide of her tongue, the nip of her teeth as they tugged his bottom lip, only fueled his hunger for more.

His disapproval was heartfelt and vocal when she broke away. "I'm all gross," she made excuse, laughing at him a little. "Still bloody an' stuff yet. I'm dying for a shower."

"Fantastic," he growled, making her laugh again as he rose to his feet with her in his arms. "It'll be much warmer in there; you always have the best ideas. Allons-y."

After one very long, enjoyable shower, the Doctor gave his torso a few final swipes with the towel before wrapping it around his waist. The bathroom door hung partially open, Rose having stepped through into the bedroom a couple minutes before, and the clearer air had already begun to dissipate the fog in the room. The fog in his mind had thinned too, now that his intense Rose-craving had been somewhat eased, though the rest of him was exhausted, ready to collapse into bed.

The mirror caught his eye and he paused as he passed it, crouching to peer into the few inches that had cleared at the bottom.

A damp, tangled mess of brown hair met him, a high forehead, delicate brows over deep-set greenish eyes. The Doctor turned his face this way and that, inspecting, tugging at the familiar, prominent chin.

Disappointment hit him out of nowhere, and the reflected nose curled up. "I didn't want this face," he muttered, scowling at the man in the mirror.

* * *

"Clear _security?" _the Doctor spluttered, following Rose through the first set of tinted glass doors. "No, no no no. I'm not having anyone rummage through my pockets, especially not-"

"UNIT doesn't care what's in your pockets, Doctor," Rose shot back over her shoulder. "Mickey's meeting us in the lobby, and he'll bring us through. So _shush_ with all the complaining, or go back to the TARDIS. Like I keep tellin' ya, you don't have to come. Matt couldn't hurt me, even if he wanted to."

"Not physically, maybe," he replied, grabbing her hand as they passed through the next set of doors into the building's enormous, tiled entrance area. "But he's already hurt you plenty in other ways, and I won't let that happen again. If he tries to justify his betrayal we're out of there, I don't care that he tried to help at the end. I will _not_ be in support of any sort of lighter sentence for him."

Rose met his eyes briefly, then nodded. Together they halted, looking around for Mickey. Though it was a late Saturday morning, the place was busier (and noisier) than the Doctor had anticipated. Men and women hurried throughout the large open space, entering and exiting, and casually dressed soldiers waited in several short lines toward the rear, being scanned in one by one before scurrying off down the main corridor or into one of several elevators.

"Um, I think you've been noticed," mumbled Rose, after less than five minutes of waiting. She was right. It had started with a few double-takes, especially from those passing by on their way in or out, and apparently word of their arrival had spread. No one had approached them outright, but the clamor of the place had dulled somewhat, and the pointing grew increasingly frequent, the staring more obvious. The Doctor inched closer to Rose, sensing her unease, and steadfastly refused to let go of her hand.

"Maybe you should phone him," he suggested in an undertone, just as an out-of-breath, black-clad Mickey appeared at their right.

"Sorry," he said, ignoring the Doctor's glare as he gave Rose a quick hug. "Got stuck. That debriefing is heading into its third bloody hour, an' they're still not done with me. Only reason I got let out at all was cos they knew I was meeting _you_."

"Perhaps a rescheduling is in order," said the Doctor pointedly, as the other man ushered them off toward a side lift.

Mickey snorted. "As if we'd get you here _twice."_

The Doctor had to smile. He'd put up a holy fuss when Mickey rang early this morning, to inform him that Barclay's fate would be decided today and that he'd likely be released soon, unless he and Rose attended the meeting to opine otherwise. Had Rose not stated her desire for answers from her former friend, the Doctor would have been sorely tempted to simply drop in right then, while she was still sleeping, and never say a word about it to her at all. Neither of them were even close to over last night's trauma and all he wanted was to hold her tight for a few days. Take her somewhere beautiful, to create and explore a new, deepened bond.

The lift's doors slid shut, concealing them from the sea of curious eyes. "Gosh, Mick," said Rose, "I figured he and I'd get some looks and all but that was..." She shuddered. "Blimey. Did everyone hear about what happened last night?"

"You mean your abduction and...things? No, of course not, those details are classified. But even if it wasn't, Rose, you really think that's gonna draw more attention than the fact that you married this place's favourite celebrity?"

Her jaw dropped as she turned on him. "What...who went and told about that?!"

Mickey stared, eyes pinched and indignant. "It wasn't me, if that's what you're implying! I wasn't the one who parked a magic spaceship in the middle of your party and ran out shouting for my wife!"

Incredulous, Rose turned to the Doctor, and the dismay in her eyes stung him. "You were missing, you know," he defended, crossing his arms. "So you'll forgive me if I was a little upset at the time. Does that...does it _bother_ you?"

Frowning, Rose softened, and touched his arm. "No, of course not, that's not what I meant. I just..." The lift chimed, announcing their arrival at the sub-level. "I'm just surprised, is all. Didn't think you'd want people knowing about us."

A slow grin crept across his face, and he cupped her cheek. "Don't want people knowing about my brilliant, gorgeous wife? Rose Tyler. I'd've nicked a light aircraft by now, to brag it up in words 'cross the sky, if you hadn't kept me so busy."

He heard her small intake of breath, caught the briefest glimpse of her smile before her lips were on his.

"All right, all right," Mickey cut in a few seconds later, though he didn't sound very annoyed. "I'm all for UNIT getting used to the idea of you two as a team, but these probably aren't the skills you wanna be showing off, yeah?"

The interview room he dropped them off in had concrete walls, was damp and cold. At least that's what the Doctor attributed Rose's shivering to, as they waited for her former team leader to be brought in. His metal chair scraped the floor as he stood, quickly shrugging off his long coat to drape it over her.

"Thanks," she said, wrapping up in its purple warmth. Only the very tips of her fingers poked out through the ends of the sleeves, adorable and _small, _and, as it always did when she was wearing his clothes, a primal possessiveness reared up in him. Except in this situation he felt less like pouncing on her, and more like prowling around and snarling.

Good thing those bloody Converses of hers were hidden under the table.

There was a great metallic creak as the heavy door opened, and both of them turned to see Barclay enter the room. Dressed in overlarge sweats he was too thin, rather fragile looking, but the apprehension on his face melted into open-mouthed shock the instant he laid eyes on Rose.

"Oh my god, you're all right," he gasped out, pale cheeks flaming with colour.

"Yeah," replied Rose, with a small smile and a glance at the Doctor. "Told you he always takes care of me."

He nodded dumbly, staring at her, making no attempt to move from where he'd slumped against the wall.

"You could sit." She inclined her head, indicating the chair opposite.

For all his staring, Barclay didn't seem to hear her. "I wanted to die, when I thought you..." Swallowing hard, he looked at the floor, gathering himself. "I don't know what I was thinking, trusting Morgan like that. He promised me, he _swore_, that you wouldn't be hurt. God, Rose, I am so, so sorry..."

Under the onslaught of emotional declarations, the Doctor was afraid Rose's heart might be getting the best of her. But her face was calm. "Why'd you do it, Matt? I just keep thinkin'... and I don't get it. Is it all aliens you have a problem with, or just the Doctor? Cause you always seemed so _accepting..."_

Matt darted a look at the Doctor, who was gratified to see real fear in his gaze. "I don't hate aliens," he said quietly, feet dragging as he came over and sat. "I...have a history with Morgan. He and my older sister, Tessa, were coworkers. I lived with her in London for a year while I attended university. I wasn't supposed to know anything about Torchwood, all the alien stuff, but she'd confided in me and I was dying to be involved. Long story short, with her and Morgan's recommendation, eventually the corporation added me to their list of potential recruits." He rubbed his eyes. "Canary Wharf happened before anything ever came of it. And my sister never came home."

"I'm sorry," Rose replied, fiddling with an earring. "That had to have been horrible. But it wasn't the Doctor's fault. He tried to stop it. I should know, I was _there_."

Matt continued silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and Rose prodded him. "But of course you heard differently for years."

"All I ever heard was how dangerous he was, and I had no reason to think otherwise. So when I first suspected you were involved with him...you have no idea how it scared me." His eyes lifted from the table to meet Rose's earnestly. "But I wasn't part of Morgan's scheme, not at first. I didn't know about it, till he emailed me your picture and real name, asking if I'd seen you, knowing you and I both had connection to Mickey. I didn't say anything for a long time, but then I just...I had to help you."

The Doctor opened his mouth to retort, but Rose quieted him with a squeeze to his arm. "You could've talked to me, Matt. Asked for my side of the story. I'd have told you the truth about Canary Wharf-"

"Your name was on the list of the dead, Rose," Matt blurted out. "Yet somehow, you're here and alive. _Twice_, now. How can you possibly explain that?"

And there it was, the expected animosity, but the Doctor found he understood it. "I know what you're thinking, but Rose didn't die at Canary Wharf. She was lost, trapped in the parallel world the Cybermen came from. She lived a life there, and only this year found a way back home. And as for last night, I healed Rose with...resources available only to me, on my ship."

Fearful disbelief still clouded Matt's eyes. "Where's Morgan, then?" he whispered.

Rose squinted at him. "Morgan? Isn't he locked up in here somewhere?"

"He was, but he...he vanished. From a top security unit, with electrified bars and two guards assigned and everything. It's been chaos around here, all morning..."

The Doctor felt Rose's eyes boring into him. "Why did you get out of bed last night?"

He sniffed. "Told you already, my throat was dry. The atmospheric subsystem on your TARDIS was incorrectly calibrated."

Rose rolled her eyes and faced Matt again. "What did he _threaten _to do?"

Gaze falling, Matt gulped, and stayed silent.

Rose thumped the table with her fist. "_Out with it_, Doctor, you stubborn old git. Here I am, trying to help him see you're decent, that you don't do those scary things you've been accused of, and now it's like you want him to think it!"

"I don't care what he thinks!"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he backed down. "Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms as he looked at Barclay. "I didn't erase him from existence, if that's what you're thinking. Do you think we'd be sitting here, talking about him if I had? Blimey, even the least amount of critical thinking skills would-" Rose's elbow jabbed his ribs, interrupting his rant. "And no, I didn't kill him either. Let's just say he's been transferred, to a prison system a bit less luxurious than this one. And let me tell you, the Judoon were delighted to get their hands -well, hooves- on number three from their most wanted list."

Rose sighed, but didn't reprove him. "Number three, huh? Must've done something pretty bad."

"Oh yes," he declared darkly. "But it'll be good for him, he can broaden his horizons, think of all those lovely new alien mates he'll have. Or won't have," he added. "If he's too stupid to drop the attitude."

"He's gonna get himself killed," Rose predicted, knowing exactly the sorts of criminals that filled those prisons.

Matt's eyes were huge. "Is that why you're here? To 'transfer' me, too?"

The Doctor couldn't help a smirk, but Rose cut in before he could say anything. "You'll be released," she said softly. "UNIT doesn't think you meant to get caught up in this, and I agree."

Then she stood abruptly, stepping back with a swiftness that told the Doctor that, despite her kind words, the man had not quite earned her complete forgiveness. "Goodbye, Matt. I hope you have a great life."

* * *

"Is it really over?" said the Doctor to Rose, his eyes bright as he dried his hands on a towel. They were back onboard her TARDIS, in the kitchen, and had decided that food would be the best way to kick off what felt like a mini-celebration.

Or a major one. They hadn't defined what they were celebrating, exactly. Maybe it was no more than the end of the day's dreaded meetings. But going by the unbridled, 'everyone lives!' elation on his face, the Doctor was thinking of something far bigger.

Their long, peril-fraught struggle for happiness. Their separation.

"Yeah," she replied, happiness swelling her heart up so big she could hardly breathe. "It's over."

A laugh bubbled out of him as he swung her around, kissing her deeply. Then he was off again, lugging a pot from the cupboard and shoving it under the tap. "You really shouldn't wear those trainers when we're on a mission, Rose," he commented offhandedly. "They _distract _me."

"That right?" she said, gleefully tapping a rubber toe against the kitchen's warm tile. "You like 'em so much, we could get you another pair of your own."

The Doctor raised a single eyebrow. "I also like that red dress of yours, but that doesn't mean I want to wear it."

Giggling, she leaned up against the countertop. "Dare I ask what you're cooking?" A little water splashed from the pot as he exuberantly plonked it down on the range and twisted the heat to high. "Please, please tell me this isn't a new way to do fish fingers."

He grimaced as he rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs and parmesan. "Not sure if I'm a fan of fish fingers anymore."

"No?"

Considering, he tapped his chin. "No. To be honest, I think I'm still a bit muddled up from the regeneration yesterday. Or non-regeneration, as it was. Tastes have gone all wonky again." His fingers slid down to find the length of spotted fabric that hung, undone, from his collar. "I was even of two minds as to whether I wanted to wear the bow-tie this morning."

Rose pursed her lips sadly. "Aw, I like the bow-tie."

Smiling at her, he took a box of penne pasta from a cabinet. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back to normal in a day or two."

"I'll enjoy the other bits while they last," she teased. "Normally I'd never get you to touch pasta, much less cook it for me."

That earned her a strange look. "That's silly. Carbonara's our favourite."

Disorientation gave her head a sudden spin and her knees buckled a little, the countertop scraping her lower back as she watched him head for the far side of the kitchen. Had he really just said...?

Maybe her head was still muddled too.

Rose was sure of it, when he lifted up on his toes to poke his arm into the upper corner cabinet, and emerged with a jubilant "ha!" Beaming, he held the wine bottle out for her to see, then blew the dust off. "I thought we were out of this! Saves us a trip back to Paris! Although," he reconsidered, "that would be fun, we haven't been there in ages-"

He trailed off, eyes widening in alarm as she slid limply to sit on the floor. "You alright?"

All she could do was stare at him, trying to determine if he was real. Abandoning his project, the Doctor knelt beside her, his eyes intent and worried. "What's wrong, Rose?"

"We've never been to Paris. Not together."

The Doctor scrunched up his face. "Of course we have. We always go this time of..." He paused, frown deepening as he second-guessed himself. "Don't we?"

She shook her head, eyes scanning over the kitchen. "What's going on? 'S like you own the place, but you've never cooked in here before," she said. "This is the first day we've spent together on my ship. Also, you detest wine. And carbonara is not _our _favourite."

Quiet, he absorbed this. "You're right," he concluded at last. "But also...wrong." A quick breath, then a long, drawn out "Ohhh."

A mighty shiver went over her, her trembling fingers grabbing his wrists for support.

Their eyes locked. "I remember marrying you," the Doctor said, with a slack, awestruck expression. "_Both _times."

Rose covered her mouth, tears spilling over and streaking her cheeks.

"It took us three months to plan the wedding. And I, I was living in your mother's house. Felt like our day would never come. But I made your ring that time too, set with a Farinese gemstone." His gaze fell on her hand. "Where is it?"

"I put it away when I came here." She hardly knew what she was saying. How could this be? Had her subconscious had found a new way to taunt her? Rose filled her lungs slowly, trying to think. "_How_, Doctor? Is this some...some side-effect, from you doing that energy transfer onboard this TARDIS? Like, you picked up some of his old memories or something?"

"I died here," he stated, staring into the air. "I remember that too, being so glad I could save you, yet scared to leave you alone, knowing I wouldn't regenerate...but I did."

His eyes snapped to hers, and in their ageless depths, she found him. _All_ of him.

"I survived, after all. I made it, Rose. I'm _here_."

* * *

She couldn't quite stop crying. Every time she looked at him it sank in a bit more -that he was every man she'd ever loved all in one, that neither death nor distance stood between them any longer- and her eyes would well up again.

The Doctor, for his part, was taking the whole thing surprisingly in stride, though the part of him that spent so many years alone was delighting in the realisation that he'd got to have a human life, after all.

"I can't believe it, Rose," he said, for the tenth time. "I had a wallet, with a driver's license in it, and credit cards..."

"Yes," she replied, laughing wetly. "And you were shocked when you got a bill for using them."

"...and a job, that I went to almost every day. In our car!" He nudged her. "Remember the first one we bought? How small it was?"

Rose smiled, nodding as she dabbed at her runny mascara. "What's it feel like?" she asked. "Having lived two lives at once?"

He looked thoughtful. "It doesn't feel that odd, really. I've lived a lot of lives, Rose, and my human one...well, I suppose you could say it's a new volume on the shelf."

"It's more than that, though. It's changed you some, even though you don't look different. 'S hard to wrap my head around. I keep imagining the part-human you regenerating, becoming this you, but that's not really it. Cos you've been _you_ for a long time already, without him..." She shook her head. "I can't try'n explain it."

"No, you're getting there. Think of a path, that diverges into two before coming back together- wait, how bout a river. Part of it meanders off for a while, picks up some twigs and leaves and such, bringing all of that back with it when it merges again. But it was always the same river."

Rose laid her head on his shoulder. Across the room, steam rolled in thick swirls from a pot of water that had been boiling for ages. Neither of them cared, contentedly curled together on the kitchen floor, their backs against a lower cabinet.

"So that debris, if you will," he continued, "has changed me. As well as the fact that I sort of did regenerate, when we recombined. Half-regenerated. You could also say that I finished the process that started years ago when the metacrisis first occurred."

"Any idea how, yet?"

"Ehm. Not sure, thought I know the TARDIS had something to do with it. Mine," he breathed out a laugh, "landed me at Martha and Mickey's yesterday and then locked me out, and let's just say she made sure I got the hint that it was the work of Bad Wolf. Practically forced me to take yours."

"She's really looked out for us, hasn't she?" Rose patted the floor fondly.

"I'd say," he replied, looking suddenly overwhelmed. "More than I probably realise. Makes sense that she'd be responsible for somehow...saving my consciousness. That was common, on Gallifrey," he told her confused frown. "Time Lords who ran out of regenerations had their souls uploaded into this thing called the Matrix. It's gone now, but thing is, each TARDIS has a matrix of her own, where her consciousness is kept. So, if I were to guess, when I spent the all of my uncoded regenerative energy healing you, she grabbed the coded, storing it -well, me- inside her own matrix, essentially saving me before I could disappear."

"And she kept that you safe, until yesterday when this you dumped a ton of that energy into me, and suddenly this body" -she poked him- "had space to receive it?"

The Doctor beamed at her. "Yes, clever girl. It was like she filled the tank back up."

A thought hit her, and her heart sped. "Oh my...Doctor. If that's true, could you possibly still regenerate?"

A considering look crossed his face, and he held up his hands. Rose gasped, tears flowing afresh when they flickered, then glowed with a golden light.

"You know what this means, Ms Tyler?" Eyes shining, the Doctor jumped up, pulling her to her feet. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "It means our forever might be practically that."

Then he kissed her and kissed her, until Rose, in a failed attempt to be lifted up onto the countertop, elbowed the open box of pasta. Its contents skittered everywhere, and the two dissolved into laughter.

The Doctor had just refilled the pot of water when Rose's pocket buzzed. "It's Mickey. _'Don't you dare leave that bloody spaceship parked in front of my house'_," she read, laughing. "All in caps-lock. That reminds me, though, I did promise Martha we'd stay there this weekend while I packed up my stuff."

His head shook vehemently. "Nope, no way. This is a time machine, remember? We can be gone for a year and they'd never know the difference. And I," he pointed at her, "I have _plans _for you."

Rose giggled. It was so like his human self had always sounded, whenever her mum'd ask them over, that she decided to test him out, see if any other old traits had stuck. "I dunno," she said, binning another handful of the spilt pasta. "There's something going on with Martha, that I'm sort of curious about."

That got his attention. "Like what?"

"Let's just say she refused a beer last night at my party." Rose arched a meaningful eyebrow. "And Martha _never_ says no to a beer."

His eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Are you serious? Did, did she say anything? So what, you really think she might be pregnant-" He cut off, blinking, as if surprised at himself. "Hang on, where's this coming from? No man I've been has ever cared about _gossip." _He spat the word out as if it tasted bad.

"True," replied Rose, with a wicked grin. "But _Donna _loved it."

She caught the flicker of horror in his eyes as her meaning sank in, and his reaction did not disappoint. Expression slack and pleading, the Doctor gaped at her, as if waiting for her to assure him it was a joke. When Rose offered no more than a (not very) apologetic smile, he groaned loudly, planting his face in his hands.

Rose thought about telling him to take heart; at least his melodrama was all his own.

The Doctor groaned again, looking over at her a few beats later with dark resignation in his eyes. "I am a Time Lord," he grumbled. "I should not _ever_ sound like a lippy ginger from Chiswick." Scowling, he flicked a piece of dry penne across the room. "Well. Isn't this wizard."

* * *

**So- did I manage to surprise any of you? At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this long-in-coming happy ending. Stay tuned for the epilogue, which should be up soon! :)**


	28. Epilogue

**Once again, so much thanks to YouCleverBoys, who has helped me throughout the nearly two-year process of writing this. You, my dear, are the BEST! **

* * *

_Several months later..._

* * *

The TARDIS lurched unexpectedly, and the Doctor went stumbling against the bed. "Oh, I should've known," he groaned, catching himself with hands flat on the duvet. That wife of his was crafty as all get out, which he liked, but he'd like it even more if it wasn't _his_ eyes that she was pulling the wool over most often. Bugger. That extra note of glee in her laughter as she shooed him off to change his shirt should've warned him she was up to something.

With hasty actions, he wrestled out of the soiled garment, snatching up the clean one from the bed as the time-ship shuddered a gentle landing. Thrusting his arms through the sleeves, he rushed into the corridor.

"Rose Tyler," he called, on rounding a corner into the console room, "what are you up to, you cheeky woman? I know you got chocolate on my shirt _on purpose,_ just so you could get rid of me."

Rose grinned, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. She was leaning heavily against the door- no, she was blocking it, her body tense, arms slightly outstretched. The Doctor bit back his own grin. Bit foolish of her, really, to play it like that. Because now there was no force in the universe strong enough to keep him on this ship.

"Where are we?" he asked, trying for nonchalant as he strolled her way, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his trousers.

A tip of pink tongue poked out of her smile, momentarily stalling him. And then, most unexpectedly, she cracked the door open. "I bought you a present."

The Doctor stared at her. A present? Already? Their anniversary wasn't until next week, and he should know, because he meant to surprise her with a (years-overdue) trip to Barcelona and the wait was driving him mad.

The usual creak as Rose opened the door further, eyebrows lifting in an impatient 'go on then'- a gesture that had his eyes narrowing. Wasn't it only a month ago that Rose piloted them to a 'surprise' location? Which ended up being no more than Clara's boring flat, the surprise on him in the form of a water pistol ambush, while his wife and his friend had a good laugh at his expense.

But today, the anticipation seeping to him through their bond seemed almost nervous, rather than devilish, and the combination of that, his curiosity, and the shining prospect of a gift (especially one so wonderfully large it had to be kept outside the TARDIS) won out over suspicion quickly.

With only a little wariness, the Doctor stepped outside.

"Happy anniversary, Doctor," said Rose, as he turned a slow circle, taking in his surroundings. They were on Earth, judging by the thick green grass, a blue sky summer-warm with afternoon sunlight.

Stretched out before him was a large, pretty garden, fenced down both sides and behind with tall, crisply white painted boards. In the center of it was a perfectly square, sunken area bordered by a retaining wall, with stone steps leading down into it. A disorganized array of flowering plants and trees filled the space, wild and overgrown and appealing.

And puzzling. The part that threw him most was the house. Situated straight ahead at the garden's front end, it was a largish two-story cottage, trimmed in white with green shutters and sided with wood shingles.

"You bought me a house?"

Rose beamed, sliding her hand into his. "I bought _us_ a house."

Despite his bone-deep confusion, the Doctor mirrored her smile. "Why?"

"Oh, you know." With a little skip, Rose began leading him across the grass. "You're always complaining about how old you're getting. Thought it'd be nice to have a place like this; come take the slow path every once in awhile. I figure, why shouldn't we have _every _sort of adventure?"

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that made him squint, even though her words made sense. In their last life, in Pete's World, buying a house had been often discussed but never done, as both were content to make their home amongst the stars once their TARDIS was ready. Now, especially to the part of him that'd always been all Time Lord, the idea of trying something so -so _human-_ was at once novel and enticing. As his clever wife had likely known it would be.

Although. Palm to palm as they were, he could easily tell Rose's keyed-up excitement hadn't abated. Which meant there was definitely more to all this than met the eye.

After passing through the fragrant, sunken center of the garden, they ascended the wide stone steps to the house, arriving at the rear entry's paned glass door. The Doctor inhaled deeply as Rose slid the key in the lock. "I smell the sea, don't I?"

"We're on Long Island," Rose told him, fighting a smile as she fiddled with the latch.

"Long Island...hang on. Rose Tyler. Don't tell me you bought us a house in the _Hamptons_."

It rang out then, the laugh she'd been suppressing, and he spluttered.

"Don't look at me like that," she managed to say. "I had a good reason, now stop being all suspicious and come tour the house, yeah? I promise that soon, you'll understand."

On stepping into the spacious, sunny kitchen, the Doctor was already beginning to see why Rose was so taken with this place. It was open and light and airy, chock-full of character, though not so much so that she'd likely chosen it on aesthetic appeal alone. The ceilings were high and trimmed with wide, carved mouldings, the doorways curved at the top, and the windows were large and plentiful.

White-painted cupboards ran in an L-shape along the back and side wall, and the corner one had a funny door, hinged in its middle. On his way to inspect it further, the Doctor ran his hand along the speckled formica countertop, pausing as he noticed the refrigerator. Plain white, wide with a curved front and long metal handle, it looked like a relic of the post-war era.

His eyes sought the stove, which was similarly dated, and realisation dawned. "Is this the nineteen-fifties?"

Rose snickered, and came over just to tap his nose. "No cigar, Time Lord, it's 1949, and blimey it took you long enough. What happened to being able to tell the exact year by tasting the air or something?"

"It tastes like 1950 in here," he retorted. "I just figured all of this old stuff was throwing me off."

"It's not old," stated Rose, wandering off through a large archway. "It's nice."

He hummed, unable to disagree as they went through the main living area, admiring the huge stone fireplace and gorgeous, curved stairway. Next up was a small den, wallpapered with huge pink roses. Rose cringed. "Nice for the most part, anyway. We might have to fix up a few things."

Smirking, the Doctor decided right there and then that those roses weren't going anywhere without a fight. "You could work with your watercolours in here," he said, touching his nose to the cool glass of a window. "Tons of natural light." This room had a street view. Lined with mature trees, there were a few houses across the way and he could make out the sound of children playing. Neighbors. Blimey. It'd been a long time since he'd had any of those. Couldn't help but wonder who they might be, what their stories were.

He looked at Rose, to ask her if she'd met any of them yet, and found her standing in the middle of the floor, fingers on lips, staring at a wall and obviously imagining something. Sunshine slanted over her, pooled at her feet, just like it would in future days. Only there'd be a...a chair, just there, fat and plush in the corner. And a soft rug on the floor, and a table full of paints and brushes, canvasses stacked all over, lining the walls.

Like a blow, it hit him. This was fun. Dreaming up ideas for a house, putting down little bitty roots. Domestic as all get out, sure, but _fun_, and all because he was doing it with her.

He sidled up behind her, drew her close to his body with hands on her waist. "I'm onto you, Rose Tyler." Her hair was soft, her scent luring his lips to her neck, and she sighed, inclining her head. "This is a fantasy for you, isn't it? I know all about you and your mum, your black and white Cary Grant films. You want to play the part of the little fifties wife?"

"Forties," she corrected with a laugh. "And I do speak the lingo. Cause yeah, you know how I'm so into aprons and doing housework in impractical shoes and the whole lack of equality thing." Turning in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I thought this place was perfect, is all. And it's a nice, quiet time period. Yeah, maybe a bit _Leave it to Beaver_, but you've gotta admit that for families, life was better in this time. Slower. I like that."

"Families?" he echoed, forehead creasing.

Ignoring the question in his eyes, Rose gave him a quick kiss and slipped away. "C'mon, love, we've got the upstairs to see yet."

His stomach bottomed out as he started up the stairs after her, drawing conclusions that his head refused to consider. There was nothing odd about her choice of words. They were together, married, of course they were a family. Obviously.

But...it wasn't the family part that worried him, was it? It was family combined with 'slow'. Their life was normally anything but, and he knew Rose vastly preferred it that way. There was no reason for her to want _slow_ all of a sudden.

Although, she had been awfully tired these past couple of weeks, sleeping in late, sneaking naps when she could...and blast it, that was _not_ putting his mind at ease.

But...no. Souped-up biology aside, Rose was still human; they were genetically incompatible. The odds of them conceiving (he winced as the word flitted through his brain) were minuscule. Wouldn't be going too far to call it _miraculous_.

(Oh, how she'd laughed at him, the day after their wedding when he'd told her as much. And then made some comment about how she intended to tempt fate _a lot, _so he better be sure.)

(And all of a sudden, 99.997% sure no longer seemed like quite sure enough.)

They explored the upstairs, and he most definitely did not read into the fact that there were three entire bedrooms. Lots of houses had at least that many, it was a normal thing. Rose's enigmatic smile, however- _that_ he had a major problem with, as it was all the response he'd gotten on asking in each of the two spares "so who's going to sleep in here?"

Rude, was what it was. She could've at least promised one of those rooms to the TARDIS.

"Think we could make this any safer?" she asked, gnawing her bottom lip in concern as they descended the polished staircase.

Right at that moment he nearly slipped himself, so he couldn't even scoff about it.

Rose eyed him strangely as she stepped into the downstairs loo. "Meet you out back in a mo'," she said. "There's a nice greenhouse out there that you'll like."

Positioned at the left rear of the garden, near the fence, the greenhouse was interesting and quite nice and he was sure he'd like it, sometime. But right now, with nerves quickening his pulse and making his neck damp with sweat, he was far too warm even out in the breeze. If he went inside it right now he'd probably suffocate and pass out.

A dramatic collapse to the ground seemed appealing, actually. He could just lie there, swallowed up by visions of inconsolable infants, his own paternal ineptitude, at least until Rose came out and told him he was being ridiculous. Problem was, he didn't exactly want her to know of his ridiculousness, so he forced himself to wander around the perimeter of the greenhouse. Dragging his feet through the grass, he peered listlessly in windows, until he saw it, sitting in a patch of dirt at the back of the structure. A small mechanical something.

A little single-cylinder generator, he rapidly deduced, undoubtedly meant for heating the greenhouse through the cold months. Several pieces lay on the ground, as if someone had taken it apart to repair it.

Thanking heaven for providing him something to do, the Doctor pulled out the sonic and set about tinkering.

He'd hardly got the main leads properly reconnected before his mind had shifted from nightmare scenarios to the memory of his wife's beaming face. Rose wasn't merely happy about all of this. She was downright thrilled to be having his baby, to the point that she was practically glowing with the joy of it. She knew it would be brilliant, this new adventure, so what reason had he to be scared?

_His baby._

A jolt went through him, lighting him up to the tips of his toes, and his hands worked with frenetic energy until he heard her call for him from a distance. "Doctor?"

Sending her a mental assurance that he was coming, he fired up the generator's ignition and grinned when it hummed to life. As he strode out from behind the greenhouse (reminding himself to come back and shut the motor down after it had warmed up for a bit) he caught sight of Rose, standing on the steps to the house with one hand shielding her eyes, looking for him. In the form-fitting jeans she preferred and a simple pink tee she looked lithe as always, not the least bit pregnant. Smiling as she spotted him, she took off, her feet nimble on the stairs (bless rubber soles). It was all the Doctor could do not to shout out a caution.

Quick as a blink he started her way, hoping to cut her run short, and had just leapt from the retaining wall into the sunken garden when there was an ominous metal whine, right before an enormous _BOOM! _cracked the air at his back.

The Doctor whipped around, the tinkle of breaking glass in his ears and smoke in his nostrils, just in time to see a good ten-foot portion of the left-hand fence tilt precariously.

Then it fell to the ground with a splintering crash.

A loud, delighted laugh rang out behind him. In shocked disbelief, the Doctor swung around to look at his wife.

"We haven't even been here an _hour_," she said, giggling madly.

He shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. "It isn't funny. This is going to make a horrible first impression."

That tickled Rose even further, and she bent double, hardly able to contain herself. "Or a very accurate one," she choked out, wiping her eyes. "But who knows? Maybe they won't mind."

Nose wrinkling doubtfully, he slid his thumbs behind his braces, tugging. "Right, okay. Of course I'll promise to repair it, and I suppose we could bake them some biscuits or something..."

Rose pointed, and he looked to find a little boy of around four, with a shock of neatly combed blonde hair, peering at them from behind the portion of fence that was still standing. Offering a rather sheepish smile, the Doctor waved at him.

The small face vanished.

"Moooooom!" came his high-pitched, startled yell, as he no doubt ran for his house.

"Oh no, that's not good," moaned the Doctor, shoulders slumping. "Mothers never like me, even when I haven't toppled a fence onto their flowers."

"Now, that's not _entirely_ true." Rose smiled up at him, hooking her fingers in his belt loops. "Some mothers like you quite a lot."

"Oh," he replied faintly, catching her meaning. Or what he thought (hoped?) was her meaning, anyway. "Like...like whom? Ehm, I mean, if you had someone in mind-"

Warm, soft lips caught his, cutting off his question, and within seconds her tongue had distracted him from it entirely.

So lost in her was he that it took a few beats for it to pierce through to his brain. A little shriek, followed by a long groan, and then an exclamation that cut cleanly through the air. "What, am I doomed to spend my every weekend surrounded by _morons?!_"

With a small, shocked gasp, the Doctor broke the kiss. But before he could muster a single thought, the voice rang out once more, now aimed directly at his back, loud and sharp-voweled and threatening. "Listen, lame brain, keep your idiot ideas to your own side of the fence, or you'll find out just how destructive-"

As quick as it started, the verbal torrent stopped.

So did both his hearts.

Closing his eyes, the Doctor hardly dared breathe as his pulse started up again, its loud double thump in his ears nearly obscuring the soft sound of Rose speaking his name. With firm pressure on his upper arms, she urged him to turn around.

Lids slowly lifting, his gaze focused to take in a tall, willowy figure in a belted blue dress. Her hands cupped her mouth and nose, blocking half her face, but it didn't matter. He'd have known those glorious Scottish threats anywhere.

"Raggedy Man," Amy gasped out through her fingers. All he could do was nod, words lodged behind a massive lump in his throat. Her hair, strikingly red as ever, was shorter and set into soft waves, and behind a pair of blue-rimmed spectacles her tearful eyes drank him in, and were not much older than he remembered.

Like a ginger storm, she flung herself over the rubble of fencing and ran to him. "Raggedy Man," she said again, as they grabbed each other up in a hug. _"How?"_

"I don't know," he whispered, mind stretching out to frantically examine the timelines. But to his great astonishment, the only damage to be found were old scars, long-ignored little holes that were now quietly smoothing over. He glanced at Rose. His wife was dashing tears away, looking absurdly pleased with herself. "You did this? On purpose?"

Her smile widened. "Like I said. Happy anniversary."

"But...you can't. It's impossible. How they...for them, the way things...end...it's a fixed point, and, and aside from that you can't land a TARDIS in New York in this time period, you'll destroy-"

Rose arched a brow. "Doctor. This is Long Island, not Manhattan, in case you've forgotten, and we landed here just fine. What, did you think Amy and Rory would spend every minute of the rest of their lives in that city and never leave it once?" She patted him. "Soon as you told me the whole story of what happened I went and looked them up. Found out about their house here, and didn't see any reason why we couldn't visit. The TARDIS didn't object, either."

"We bought it last year," inserted Amy, staring at Rose with round eyes, like she was just now noticing her. "We come on weekends and holidays...Rose?"

Rose waggled her fingers, the gemstone on her double wedding band winking in the sunlight. "Hello."

Amy shook her head. "He left you in that other world- another universe. You were married. And now...you're together?" Her gaze darted between Rose and the Doctor, as if she were unsure which of them she ought to disapprove of more.

"We're together," confirmed Rose with a soft smile. "It's a long story, Amy, and one we'll be happy to tell you. But for now, please believe me when I assure you that everything's alright. It's all worked out for the best."

Lips pursed, Amy considered Rose, and then a smile crept onto her face. "It's so good to see you again," said Amy, hugging her. "Both of you."

"Amelia Pond," said the Doctor, laughing with the utter joy of her name on his tongue. Amy replied with her own warm laugh, and she squeezed him again, bouncing on her toes a little.

"Oh...okay," came a breathless male voice. "You're right, son, they are actually hugging. I admit I had pictured something a bit more violent, but this is...weird."

The Doctor grinned at Amy, rather enjoying this whole thing now that the surprise wasn't entirely on him. "Rory Pond!" he exclaimed, spinning round with a flourish to face his old friend.

Rory's thin face paled, and he clapped a hand tight on his son's shoulder.

"And you must be Anthony," the Doctor went on, smiling at the young boy as he approached the fence-line. "Hello. I'm the Doctor."

Little Anthony's blue eyes popped wide in recognition. "Dad," he said, yanking on Rory's sleeve. "Dad, it's the _Doctor."_

"I'd noticed," said Rory, still not moving. "Um, Doctor. I thought you said you couldn't-"

"Yes, yes, and he was totally wrong," Amy's loud voice broke in. "To be honest, I don't know why we're all so surprised."

Crossing his arms, the Doctor tossed her an injured look.

"So," said Rory, helping his son climb over the pile of broken boards, "is this a coincidence or something? Wait, don't tell me it's because we really did have aliens next door; Amy's been claiming that all sum- oh my god, it's Rose." His toes caught on a plank at the very edge and he flailed a little, barely managing to keep his balance as he stumbled into the grass, stunned eyes on the blonde.

"They're together now," Amy informed him, quite eager to be the one to share all the big news. "Not sure how that happened yet, but they both swear he didn't kidnap her. And Rose is the one who figured out how they could visit us."

"We're married," added the Doctor proudly, for the fun of sending out another small shockwave, and also because he never missed a chance to say it.

"Brilliant," said Rory, still sounding quite dazed as he accepted a hug from Rose. "Is this visit a one time thing, or...?"

"Oh, I'd wager we might pop in from time to time." Lips quirking, the Doctor met Rose's eyes. "Being as we're your new neighbors and all."

"What?" Amy sounded tearful again. "You mean you two are the people who bought this place? Why would you go and do that?"

"Well," Rose began, smoothing an errant lock of hair that the wind had stirred up, "the Doctor and I always used to spend quite a lot of time visiting my family; weekends and Sunday dinners and such." She pressed a kiss to the Doctor's shoulder, and when he looked at her, the shining love in her eyes stole his breath. "Figured it was only right that we do the same with his."

For a long moment the Doctor was speechless, eyes damp as he stared at her. His precious girl, still making him better, giving him things he never knew he could have. A powerful rush of love swelled up inside him, demanding an outlet, and before he could draw one proper breath he was kissing her.

Quite well.

"If you have to stare at them, Amy, could you at least move back a step or two?"

"Nope. This is my chance for payback."

"Okay, I get that, but remember what we've talked about, setting a good example for our C.H.I.L.D..."

Smiling against Rose's lips, the Doctor drew back, reminded of their _other_ reason for being here. Settling his hand low on her back, he faced the Ponds. "Also, we bought this place because Rose is pregnant."

The looks on their faces did not disappoint, but before he could start to enjoy it, Rose escaped his grasp. "Pregnant- I am most certainly not!"

He gaped at her, a strange heaviness filling his chest. "But...but what was all that talk about, back in the house? About how this is such a great, slow time for a family?"

"Love," she said, lips twitching. "I was thinking of Amy and Rory."

"Oh." The Doctor darted a glance at the other couple. They stood together, watching this exchange with small smiles- as if they thought it was _cute_ or something.

He scowled at them.

Rory cleared his throat. "Speaking of children," he said, eyes finding Anthony, who was happily walking the retaining wall's top like a balance beam, "how did you know about ours?"

The Doctor tapped his chin, considering. "Ehm. Well, I heard about him from your dad, and even saying that much is probably more than I should be telling you. Very...timey wimey. Let's just say that your future is set and so's your son's, apparently, which is why I can't run you back home, ever. This is your path and you've got to take it, all the way to the end. Sorry."

"Don't be," said Amy breezily. "We're happy with our life here, Doctor. Look at us. We've adopted a son. We bought a house in the _Hamptons_," she added, grinning and nudging him.

"Right." He took in their pretty house. "Looks like the book sales are doing well."

"And Rory's a doctor now."

"Doctor Pond!" crowed the Doctor. "That's brilliant. Has quite the ring to it, eh?"

"Quite," replied Rory, sighing. "Anyway, I was thinking, since it's both a Sunday and nearly dinner time, maybe the two of you'd like to step over to our place? Start up a new tradition?"

"Not that way," added Amy, shoving the Doctor toward the side gate. "We'll go round the front, at least until you get all that fencing cleaned up."

"I'll take the whole left side down," declared the Doctor, rubbing his hands together. "It'll be like one big party all the time! Who needs privacy?"

He caught Amy and Rory sharing a look of alarm, and he hid a smile, slowing to walk beside Anthony. "Just look at all that wood," he said. "We could make a topping great bonfire, couldn't we?"

The lad smiled at him eagerly.

"You're not building any sort of fire anywhere near my house," proclaimed Amy. "I wouldn't even trust you to light a candle."

Rose laughed, closing the gate behind them. "Oh, she's got your number, mate."

"What I want to know is how you snuck out long enough to buy a house without Mr. Nosy finding out about it," said Amy to Rose. "Especially since he never sleeps."

"Oh, he sleeps," drawled Rose. "And deep, too. The trick is wearing 'im out enough beforehand."

The Doctor groaned and so did Rory, clapping his hands over his ears. "That's it. I hereby ban these sorts of conversations, at least while I am in hearing."

Walking backwards, Amy pointed a stern finger at the Doctor. "And I hereby ban any and all unannounced visits to our bedroom."

"Doctor! You've done that?" Rose was horrified.

"Oh yes," asserted Amy, before he could defend himself. "And that's not all. I'll bet you don't know the half of what he got up to while you were gone."

"M'sure I don't," replied Rose, sharing a grin with her friend. "That's part of why I was so eager to look you up."

"Oi," said the Doctor, glaring daggers at Amy, who cackled as she skipped off to catch up with Rory.

Rose took his arm, leaning heavy against him. "I didn't want to say, before, but I was thinking how those extra bedrooms would be nice for Mar and Mickey and Charlie. Clara too. Don't you think they'd love to come along, sometime?"

"Oh, yeah, so you can all gang up on me. How fun."

"You love it," she said, hip-bumping him. "Admit it, this is the best gift ever."

He began to shake his head, then reconsidered. "Well, I suppose it's part of it, like...the ball-bearings on a fairy-cake. But you've already given me the one gift that can't be topped."

She tilted her head, a silent question.

"Happiness," he said simply. "Love." He stretched an arm out, wiggling his fingers. "A hand to hold."

She took it. "Oh, Doctor."

Anthony's childish laugh rang out, and they looked over to see his parents racing each other up the front steps. Rory whooped in triumph as he hit the TARDIS-blue door a split second before Amy, and the Doctor chuckled. "See, they have it too. All of those things, tied together by a promise- that's what Forever really is, Rose." He swallowed. "It has nothing to do with years or time or lifespans. If only I'd known that a long time ago."

Halting them, Rose lifted up to brush a soft kiss over his lips. "It also has nothing to do with past regret, Doctor." Her smile bloomed, one with a teasing amount of tongue. "Though it does have -in _your_ ideal, anyway- a marriage, a house...one preferably full of babies, apparently," she tacked on, then jumped away with a squeal from his tickling fingers. "Regular holidays with friends. All a bit cliché for a Time Lord, yeah?"

Eyes sparkling with fun, she tensed, expecting him to go after her again for that one, but he only rocked back on his heels. "Joke's on you then, Rose Tyler," he replied with a superior smile. "If you've only just picked up on that now. Thought I've been saying for months that I intend on us having the most cliché story there is."

"Oh yeah? And how's that go, again?"

The Doctor bent, touched his forehead to hers, and whispered.

"They lived happily ever after."

* * *

**And that's a wrap! Huge thanks to all of you for reading, and special hugs to those who have been on this journey with me since I was posting Consequences (which, by coincidence, ended exactly two years ago today!). I appreciate your support so much!**

****The character Anthony Williams is taken from the DW mini-episode "P.S.", available on YouTube. **** If you've never seen it you need to. You WILL cry. **

**For the most part, I now consider this series concluded, but there will be at least a couple of one-shots set in the same universe that I'll be posting in future, (if there's something particular you want to see, let me know, I just might write it) and I'm also planning several other Doctor/Rose stories. Hope you stick around! **


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